Between August and October 2013, a total of 319 haiku and 20 tanka were submitted by 78 authors for this selection. The deadline for entries was October 15, 2013. Each participant could send in up to 5 haiku or tanka.

These works were anonymized by Claudia Brefeld, who also had the overall coordination, before the selection began. The jury consisted of Fried Schmidt, Brigitte ten Brink and Peter Wißmann. The members of the selection group did not submit their own texts.

All selected works (37 haiku and 3 tanka) are listed below alphabetically by author's name - up to max. three works per author.

“A haiku / a tanka that appeals to me in particular” - under this motto, every jury member has the opportunity to choose a work (still anonymized), present it here and comment on it.


The next deadline for the Haiku / Tanka selection

is January 15th, 2014.


Only previously unpublished works can be submitted. No simultaneous submissions.

Since the jury is made up of changing participants, I would like to cordially invite all interested DHG members to participate as a jury member in upcoming selection rounds.

Claudia Brefeld


A haiku that particularly appeals to me

Selected and commented by Fried Schmidt:

writer's block

even in Delphi

cicadas only


Elisabeth Weber Strobel

Admittedly, it was not easy for me to present these three lines as my personal best-of-haiku of the present selection. As a self-confessed representative of the "pure teaching of the 17 syllables", a shorter text must impress me to get the full number of points. In addition, the jury was once again spoiled for choice to find out the primus inter pares from the plethora of submissions, often with only nuances.

But: Again and again we are lucky enough to find a haiku that we like at first glance, so emotionally, unconsciously, from the gut - and then, with increasing analysis, but a little faded, the brilliance of the unique and loses new ones.

In this case it is different: the first impression was not deceptive, even after the tenth, twelfth reading the haiku does not become weaker. On the contrary, it is gaining depth. A great picture in 6 simple words. Not a syllable too much. What should you change?

writer's block

The Halloween of all writers. Sitting in front of a white sheet of night, red wine and cigarettes. Restless walking between desk, kitchen and wastebasket. Weeks full of doubt, hope and doubt. The horror has many faces.

even in Delphi

The even has finally convinced me. Escape from writer's block - a spectacular change of location should help. Delphi. The classic place for inspiration. The center of the world on Parnassus, home of the muses, especially poetry. A familiar Greek landscape, filled with memories of successful texts. If not here, where else can the spell be broken?

cicadas only

But even here, despite the fantastic panorama and the reminiscences of better times, no more creative thoughts are free. The cicadas remain cicadas and, as a banal word of the season for a summer vacation, ultimately a symbol of failure. Bonjour, dreary when you can't remember Delphi. , , Pure writer's block.

The topic can hardly be implemented more vividly. Form and content correspond. The brevity and the use of everyday terms in this haiku skillfully reflect the poet's continuing linguistic impoverishment, his literary silence. Cicadas only.

So there are also 17 syllables. , ,

Selected and commented by Brigitte ten Brink:

there is the time

cog and balance

from the structure


Sylvia Bacher

I read this haiku and my first thought is, why is there time? And then it becomes clear to me that the term "time" is also used in this haiku as a synonym for "clock".
The mechanism of the watch, "cog and balance", has "gotten out of hand", in other words, the watch is broken.
My second thought is that time exists and still surrounds me, even if this one clock no longer works.
The words echo in me. I read again and not only see the damaged clock in front of me, I feel confronted with the subject of "time", in all its complexity, precisely because the first haiku line does not read 'the clock is broken', which also means the syllable number Scheme would have fit, but for a good haiku would undoubtedly have been too unimaginative, superficial and one-dimensional, but "there is the time". This is much more exciting and goes far beyond the fact that the watch is broken.
Time connects the concrete moment and the things that are in it with the past, the future and the world and also the clock is assigned a place in this structure. In the age of digitization, this way of displaying the time is almost old-fashioned and so the time lies in front of me like in a museum and also looks a bit like thrown away. "There is time", like so much that is no longer used because it needs to be repaired or because technology, further development has progressed and "better" products have been created. What is the value of time? How do we deal with time? Do we use them? Do we let them pass? An important question with regard to climate change and the development and utilization of renewable energies. How important is time in our CVs, what do we assign to them? Everyone has their own individual answers to these questions and in this sense “time” is also an individual phenomenon. Everyone has their special relationship to time and their understanding of time and uses it accordingly.
But all of these are only partial aspects. It seems more important to me that time per se is the subject of this haiku. For me, this idea is hidden behind the concrete image of the inoperative clock. The watch can no longer fulfill its task of displaying the time and therefore more than just the watch gets out of balance. What if the time is no longer visible, no longer offers orientation, can no longer provide an overview of before, after, here and now? What happens when the clock gets out of joint and maybe even ceases to exist, as a physical unit, as a philosophical phenomenon and as a psychological perceptual dimension? Is there emptiness or chaos then? In my imagination, not only do things melt away, like the clocks in Dali's painting “The Flowing Time”. All being loses its structure and meaning.
This haiku combines different, specific meanings of the concept of time with the time superior to all existences and appearances. The time that we can determine on the one hand, can be viewed and used and that we are delivered on the other hand and which we have not yet fully grasped as the fourth dimension.
The abstract concept of “time” is juxtaposed with the mechanical, technically tangible components of the clock, the cog and the balance wheel, and the interweaving of the clear, tangible reality and the non-real reality makes it clear at the same time.
This haiku is a snapshot in a few words that puts a specific event (broken clock) in a larger context (time) and thus allows a view of the all-encompassing.

Selected and commented by Peter Wißmann:

get out kruispunt


the silence


abandoned intersection

Regulate traffic lights

the silence


Marian Poyck

A strong image that is evoked in this haiku with just under 13 syllables. A junction, I think of it on a country road, on a Sunday morning, maybe an autumn morning. Light mist that blurs the meadows to the right and left as well as the defoliated trees in the background. It is quiet. The peaceful scene gets by without any human personnel, and yet the human being is present in it. Traffic lights, created by humans and placed there, stand at the intersection and continuously give green, yellow and red signals. They regulate traffic that doesn't even exist or, as it is called in haiku: they regulate silence. Of course, the silence does not need traffic lights and of course it does not have to and cannot be regulated. Doing the traffic lights is superfluous and absurd. It refers to people who, in the form of their 'creatures' - the traffic lights - do not stop wanting to regulate something where there is nothing to regulate. It only takes 7 syllables - 'traffic lights regulate the silence' - and a short introduction - 'abandoned intersection' - to create this image and these associations. This is what a successful haiku looks like to me.


The selection


Hospital window

at three-thirty comes quietly

the moon visiting.


Johannes ancestor

there is the time

cog and balance

from the structure


Sylvia Bacher

in the spider web

get caught - take a deep breath -

just a feather


Sylvia Bacher

to the rain music

the windscreen wipers

not in time


Sylvia Bacher

Tango -

between the cheeks

no more lies


Gerd Borner

mountain path

A stone rolls

down to the clouds


Pure Bonack

MRI schedule

defeat in the golden leaf

you cancer again


Ralf Broker

The day is breaking -

I open the door

against the wind


Horst Oliver Buchholz

Good night song -

the earth sways

deeper and deeper into the blue


Frank Dietrich

after the fireworks

the firework

the Stars


Frank Dietrich

Menopause -

in empty nests

snow is falling


Frank Dietrich

late rendezvous -

the cat licks itself

Shine in the fur


Gerda Forester


between wheel and fender

a spider web


Hans-Jürgen Goehrung

Blackbird singing

early in the morning on the roof ridge -

the black muezzin


Erika Hanning

Morning rain -

dripping from the bamboo

the Sunday silence


Erika Hanning


he continues to work ...

the sickle man


Angelica Holweger

warm milk

a pot full

battered stories


Use Jacobson

Bracket morning haze.

Nudibranchs on the way to

Hall of the Buddha


Markus Jansen

old beer garden -

blowing over the wall

White elderberry


Silvia Kempen

at the end of the day

the smell

of a lime leaf


Eva Limbach

morning Calm

just a rooster cry away


Eva Limbach


the star Sky



Ramona Left

Virus quick test -


changes color


Ramona Left

Twenty kilograms

lose weight per week

plum harvest


Dietmar Naescher


Gets the year

Age spots


Eleanor Nickolay

get out kruispunt


the silence


abandoned intersection

Regulate traffic lights

the silence


Marian Poyck

First snowflakes

melt on the tongues

like on the asphalt.


Wolfgang Roedig

Visit to the home.

She tells the children

a strange life


Boris Semrov

flea market

spread out in front of me

my youth


Boris Semrov

English lawn

Bees search in vain

the meadow of yore


Monica Smollich

autumn afternoon

in the gaps of the wind

Mother's voice


Dietmar Tauchner

sometime at night

become my thoughts

to crickets singing


Dietmar Tauchner

first autumn storm

i put my bike

to the chain


Elisabeth Weber Strobel

strange sounds

away from the house

that nobody wanted to buy


Elisabeth Weber Strobel

writer's block

even in Delphie

cicadas only


Elisabeth Weber Strobel

... never lead

through spring or autumn

Metro rails


Klaus-Dieter Wirth

"Fate Symphony"

from the seat next door

Mothball smell


Klaus-Dieter Wirth

After the flood.

Grandma's house again

renovate. -

None of us will

ever live here.


Tony Bohle

At two with you

meeting in the café,

I mean

Clock back ten minutes. -

Yes, you are perfect for me!


Tony Bohle

the sunflowers

accompany the night train


with open eyes

let's go into the night


Dragan J. Ristic

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