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Back to the Modern American Haiku Poets

Garry Gay's Haiku


Where the ripple was
the fisherman casts his line;
another ripple

Old tea bag;
tints the moon

Hole in the clouds
just the right size
for this full moon

Weight lifter
slowly lifting
the tea cup

Old retriever;
he opens one eye
at the tossed stick

In cupped hands
she brings me
the cricketÂ’s silence

Her mailbox
leans into the honeysuckle
rusted and empty

Autumn begins
leaves follow me
into the shed

The trail forks...
taking the one
with wildflowers

Mad rushing river;
nothing able to cross it
except this rainbow

Sudden wind
and the seed tufts drift away
across the meadow

Antique map
an ant travels
the old spice route

Over looked
a dandelion blooms
in the window box

used book store;
the cat moves quietly
among dead authors

At the fence
they sit on their tractors
talking hay

Midday heat;
the ice cream melting faster
than I can lick

the worn red bench
at the end of the orchard...
apple scent

moving day...
cherry blossoms fall
into unpacked boxes

Watermelon rind,
sitting in its own juice
the summer sun

Autumn deepens
an empty snail shell
explored by an ant

the palm reader
does her nails

After falling down
she asks for a bandaid
for her doll too

No matter
where I stand…
barbecue smoke

Along the way
an old oak branch
becomes a walking stick

Hole in the ozone
my bald spot...

Sweat lodge —
my only vision
is of the cool water

The road to Hana;
waterfall around each curve
and flower fragrance

Clouds passing
I walk behind
the homeward cows

into the clouds
the view within

Skunk skull —
the smell
of a summer shower

A light mist
we skip to the playground
my daughter and I

The mockingbird
tries a new voice
first day of autumn

Yellow lily;
in the water
in the rain

Sitting on driftwood
listening to the seagull's cry...
the end of summer

The meadow
with bird song 

Broken web
yet still...
these drops of dew

in the sword's blade
soft summer clouds

The last days
of Indian summer...
fallen windmill

Early morning
fishermen tell stories
waiting for the tide

Dandelion seed —
in his beard

A lone ant
carries the weight
of twilight

Hunter's moon:
the raccoon washing something
in the river

Tedious spider; 
after weaving all night long...
caught nothing but dew 

Garden hoe;
the backbone
of the scarecrow

Halloween night —
the fisherman
dressed as a scarecrow

grows ripe
among the pumpkins

Along the trail
trading one walking stick
for another

I wander
the backwoods
with the autumn wind

Exploring deeper
into the canyon...
white moth

in a narrow passage
canyon walls echo

The light fades
off the canyon wall
my flashlight dims

Shafts of sunlight
it moves and I move
slowly down the wall

To cheat
the echo...
we whisper

the voice
of the canyon

In his mitt
he catches
the fallen apple

Indian summer;
a redtail hawk's solemn flight
through burial grounds

Driftwood hut;
the morning fire
of the beachcomber

Calla Lilly shadow
as the fog lifts

Meadow poppy
slowly uncrumbles
after the footstep

Ocean beach —
a homeless man
collecting sand dollars

Perfectly still
my thoughts follow
a honeybee

Field of snow
the morning tracks
of night animals

Coming upon
my own tracks
in the snow

down the ski run
snow hare

Snowflake's fall
into the darkness
of the tuba

New snow —
the path you made last night
has gone with you

in the darkness —
by a snowflake

Steady snowfall
the many tracks
of the deer hunter

Snowball fight —
the grownups surrender
to their children

The last icicle
placing the teapot
under it

Migrating whales —
from the harpoon boat
taking pictures

Family reunion —
again explaining
what a haiku is

River stones
along her garden path
wet with dew

So now the garden
is all abloom...
missing you.

Zipping up my jacket
in hibernation

A box
full of wishbones

In meditation
the slow stream
of thoughts

Autumn rain —
the merry-go-round's music
drifts through the empty park 

Snow buried canoe;
whittling on the paddle
by cabin fire light

Over the railroad tracks
the slow motion
of a snake

North star
poking the embers
with the walking stick

Indian summer —
the Golden Retriever
shaking off the river

Morning glory;
wrapping itself in the blue
of twilight

Urban stream —
a heron's slow steps
around an old tire

September stillness...
the long wait for the heron
to move

Autumn drizzle
the rusted tricycle
in the river bed



Rengay, formulated by Garry Gay, is a collection of 6 linked haiku (based on a unifying theme or image) written by 2 or 3 partners. Each link should be able to stand on its own.
With 2 partners (A & B), this is the pattern of alteration between 3 and 2 line links:
A-3 · B-2 · A-3 · B-3 · A-2 · B-3
With 3 partners (A & B & C), this is the pattern of alteration between 3 and 2 line links:
A-3 · B-2 · C-3 · A-2 · B-3 · C-2


a rengay by Cherie Hunter Day & Garry Gay

cropped photograph —
leaving my shadow
on the darkroom floor

from the bottom of the tray
your smile slowly develops

pulling me closer
in front of the camera...
first date

on the bulletin board
your snapshot

a roll of negatives...
the brightness of your dark eyes

I join you
in the photograph


a rengay by John Thompson & Garry Gay

harvesting pears
from my backyard
I feel wealthy

glowing gold
the sun hangs in the branches

turning from its bowl
the cat licks its paws and yawns —
cool evening breeze

the potter's wheel
turns slowly under old leaves —
shadows changing shapes

a game of catch
extends into moonlight

back and forth
a slow exchange
between crickets


Hammerhorn Lake
a rengay by Michael D. Welch, John Thompson & Garry Gay

dragonfly wing
caught in a mud crack —
mountain lake

lizard sunning itself
on a swimmer's boat

over the mountain
a small cloud
and its reflection

between parted reeds
coon tracks

bleached snail shells
crunching underfoot —
a drifting waterlily

the wind dies down
to a cricket sound