A total of 266 haiku by 97 authors and 56 tanka by 24 authors were submitted for this selection. The closing date for entries was October 15, 2020. I anonymized these texts before the selection began.

Each member of the DHG has the option of naming a submission that should be published on the member's own page if the jury disregards it.

Can be submitted only previously unpublished texts (also applies to publications on blogs, forums, including the forums on HI HAIKU, social media and workshops etc.).

No simultaneous submissions please!

Please Haiku / Tanka collected in one operation Enter yourself in the online form on the DHG website HI HAIKU:

Submit Haiku and Tanka selection

Otherwise by email with a keyword Haiku / Tanka selection January 15, 1 in the subject please to:


The next deadline for the Haiku / Tanka selection is the January 15, 2021.

Each participant can take up to six Texts - three Haiku and three Tanka - submit.

With the submission, the author gives the consent for a possible publication in the Agenda 2022 of the DHG and on http://www.zugetextet.com/ as well as for a possible presentation on the website of the Haiku International Association.


Haiku selection from HTA

The jury consisted of Birgit Heid, Kerstin Hirsch and Jonathan Perry. The members of the selection group did not submit their own texts.

All selected texts - 47 haiku by 42 authors - are published in alphabetical order of the author's name. A maximum of two haiku per author will be recorded.

"A haiku that particularly appeals to me" - this is the motto for each jury member to select up to three texts (still anonymized), to present and comment on them here.

Since the jury should consist of changing participants, I would like to take this opportunity to cordially invite all interested DHG members to be a jury member for upcoming Participate in selection rounds.

Eleanor Nickolay


A haiku that particularly appeals to me

Hotel noises.
In the cradle of breath
a butterfly.

Volker Friebel

A lot happens in this haiku. Three pictures are actually too many. Someone is on the move here, further away from home. The unfamiliar environment also creates a certain unrest inside, many impressions occupy the person, some of which he has certainly brought with him from home. First of all, the hotel noises are worth mentioning for the guest, they cannot be suppressed and seem to affect the well-being. I cannot judge whether it is a vacation or a work-related hotel stay. Sometimes you have to work while on vacation.

I imagine that because of the disturbance, the person goes outside or starts meditation, because the point after the hotel noise gives me an interface. Outside and also in the mind, calm gradually returns, the longed-for silence and slowness. The breath can be felt. So intense that it is perceived as a cradle. An image for a slight up and down of the chest, a gentle rocking of the pelvis like a cradle. A meditation exercise that may be done near a rippling lake or a surging sea. Breathing that flows through the whole body. And now a butterfly is fluttering along. Apparently carefree and only following his needs. Although it may represent an interruption in immersion, the person experiences a contemplative unity of himself and this very butterfly, which he watches after breathing calmly.

Selected and commented by Birgit Heid


dried by the wind
the shadows of the trees
on the sheets

Ingrid Meinerts

This haiku appealed to me in particular. Dried by the wind, for me that means white, fluttering laundry, in my eyes the glistening of the sun is combined with the glow of the textiles. In the vicinity of the property there are trees that cast clear shadows because summer is over and the sun is already lower. Perhaps one is concerned that the laundry might not be dry by the evening. But lo and behold, the power of the sun was sufficient. Until then, a banal process, one might think. Not worth mentioning that you have to do laundry, hang it up, hang it up and put it back in the cupboards. You do it on the side, whatever the time. Pure necessity, sometimes a tiresome affair, does not lead to any particular sense of well-being and is not the result of one's own creativity. And yet: Here the insignificant is highlighted and appreciated so wonderfully that the image of the tree shadows on the laundry touched me for days. Perhaps the laundry is still damp in these areas. It is the little discoveries that only become possible through a closer look and being mindful of what we take for granted every day. They are transitory natural phenomena which, viewed in the right light, can give us wealth and abundance. Moreover, this haiku makes me think of Plato's allegory of the cave, according to which we humans basically only see the shadows of the actual archetypes or ideas. Following up on these philosophical considerations can open further doors of personal enrichment. In this respect, the haiku has covered a very wide range.

Selected and commented by Birgit Heid


in the hospice
another morning noon
Evening maybe

Gregor Graf

A haiku written in free form that does without the stylistic device of the two apparently opposing images.

My first perception: The concrete naming and listing of the times of day seem like the ticking of a clock. What is certain is that this clock will stop in the foreseeable future. The when is uncertain. However, this clocking disappears again when reading repeatedly. Due to the lack of punctuation, morning, noon and evening seem to lose their boundaries and flow into one another. They combine to form a present moment, a limbo between relief or pain, sadness or disappointment and fear, uncertainty or hope. It is the words "again" and "maybe" that keep the haiku open. It is completed by the experiences and the emotional world of the reader. It is impossible to fathom the emotional state in which the writer is. When working out the possible interpretations, which emotions can be hidden behind “again” and “maybe”, I kept asking myself: Is it allowed to think and feel that way? May I think and feel like this? A challenge caused by 14 syllables.

Selected and commented by Kerstin Hirsch


the crow
leaves its branch

Eva Limbach

What immediately inspired me about this poem was the sound, the croaking of the crow that recurs in every line. On listening more closely, however, I noticed how behind the obvious sounds that pushed into the foreground, the lighter ones began to shimmer through, there is, in every line again, this upward tendency, which then - effortlessly and as if it could not be otherwise - dissolves into pleasure, or at least some sort of relief. It is true that almost every poem only comes to its full development through reading aloud. With this one, however, I would like to strongly recommend that you repeat it as slowly and clearly as possible, perhaps even in the unctuous tone of bygone times: For me, this haiku is above all an incredibly dense melody, a whole piece of music, maybe a song. I can hardly get enough of it, I keep repeating it to myself, each time the sound, as I like to call it, becomes more intense ... But enough of that. Eventually I had the idea that I could take a look at what is written about Mary Candlemas (a popular term, by the way). Unfortunately, I myself know very little about the customs. Unfortunately, because I've felt often enough that I'm missing something. Maybe that's why I'm so attracted to this haiku? Might be. As far as the Maria Lichtmess in the poem is concerned, there would be enough room for interpretation, enough room for interpretation, that I could sit here until the early hours of the morning and puzzle over and over, and yet I would never come to an end. That's not my business, if you want, you can take the trouble and research. Perhaps you would read something from earlier, from a servant and his master, that the two of them renewed the employment relationship with a handshake, for example ... But I don't really like to go into it, this poem is too dear for me, that is enough for me there is something, something that pulls me into its spell again and again, and of course it can also be that it's just the music, but that would be a lot. A haiku that I will hardly forget.

Selected and commented by Jonathan Perry


The selection

Winter evenings -
around our shoulders
Grandmother's stole

Ellen Althaus Rojas

Hospital window
a falling star

Christa Beau

atchoo -
the seat neighbor pulls
his mask tight

Winfried Benkel

Radiant heater
creeps into being together
a cool thought

Winfried Benkel

a headwind is blowing
Waves in the faces
the last swimmer

Eva Beilich

Bed reading
between the pages
crunches Sylt

Christopher Blumentrath

Frog spawn
Child to child to child
on the bank

Marcus Blunck

Bunkerberg -
my boy shows
on the flowers in the tree

Gerd Borner

after the Buddha Museum
in every face
his smile …

Claudia Brefeld

when removing rubbish
which is why she left

Horst Oliver Buchholz

Ribbon bookmark
I hang around
to the word of consolation

Stefanie Bucifal

deep blue sky
in my thoughts
Munch's scream

Maya Daneva

where the eyes would be
the blind spot
in the mirror

Frank Dietrich

Ginkgo in autumn dress
a street musician
tunes his violin

Hildegard Dohrendorf

summer rain
laughing the child runs
through the flower meadow

Hildegard Dohrendorf

Mineral exchange
the exchange of

Bernadette Duncan

flower mask the beauty of gestures

Bernadette Duncan

high up
the kites smile
down on us

Hans Egerer

garden fence
falls into the break in conversation
ein Apfel

Gisela Farenholtz

The menu
by code on the mobile phone
No lettuce

Gabrielle Flake

Hotel noises.
In the cradle of breath
a butterfly.

Volker Friebel

Snow moon.
In my room the warmth
blooming cherries.

Volker Friebel

House rule
The dream fragments in the morning
sweep up

Hans-Jürgen Goehrung

in the hospice
another morning noon
Evening maybe

Gregor Graf

It will snow in the night
and more and more homesick

Claus-Detlef Grossmann

in the wheelchair
the desire for
a you

Matthew Gysel

Winter evening
our songs are alike

Gabriele Hartman

"Close!" Calls the grandson -
the open book
a stone sculpture

Bernhard Haupteltshofer

der Kopf
full of ghosts

Martina Heinish

He + she ...
the clay figures

Angelica Holweger

Petals fall
Almost forgotten
the pandemic

Deborah Karl Brandt

September sun
Suddenly two
on the balcony

Deborah Karl Brandt

fading steps
in the door

Michaela Kiock

The only tree
in the street - full of flowers.
A dog lifts its leg.

Moritz Wulf Lange

On the hay cart
are only allowed at the harvest festival
the local.

Moritz Wulf Lange

in my calendar
first corrections

Eva Limbach

the crow
leaves its branch

Eva Limbach

farewell earlier ...
we have each other
always good

Ramona Left

dried by the wind
the shadows of the trees
on the sheets

Ingrid Meinerts

It has become quiet - - -
if she wakes up again
the puppet stage

Heidelore Raab

On the suspension bridge
Every man for himself

Renate Maria Riehemann

Pandemic resolutions
on the late news
the host raises the chairs

Wolfgang Roedig

all night
his life confession

Boris Semrov

the holes
in your day
end of summer

Helga Stania

autumn avenue
a hawk lifts
the light

Helga Stania

The boulder in
Evening light occupied again
from the fire beetle

Angela Hilde Timm

in the old ballroom
dance leaves

Friedrich winemaker


HTA tanka selection

Silvia Kempen and Peter Rudolf selected 7 Tanka from 6 authors. A maximum of two tanka per author will be accepted.

This time no text will be discussed under the motto, “A tanka that appeals to me in particular”.


 The selection

beyond the last houses
lies a deserted forest
I sense my path
at some point
will lose in it

Frank Dietrich

the girl lays
and you smile
in grandpa's hands ...
a car honks

Ruth Guggenmos-Walter

I promised myself
of my visit
but now he's serving tea
from coffee blossoms

 Gabriele Hartman

... that may be true
says the little one
to the big sister
but my Nicholas
really exist 

Gabriele Hartman

No holiday greeting
this year
du bist gegangen
the silence
keeps me silent too

Renate Kueppers

after the lockdown
the bench under the linden trees
freshly painted …
and again it ignites
the last cigarette

Eva Limbach

I dance
to the first side of the plate
Old age ailments
I discover every day
on vinyl

Anna Vriede



Special contribution by René Possél

René Possél chose a haiku from all anonymized submissions that particularly appeals to him.

garden fence
falls into the break in conversation
ein Apfel

This haiku comes along very slowly and slowly. If you linger a little on the individual keywords, you perceive a character of deceleration ...

The keyword "garden fence" in the first line awakens an image. It is the border between two neighboring gardens and the situation of neighbors who are both apparently gardening. In this case they use the opportunity even more to chat comfortably. (second line)

The conversation must be one in which nothing is specifically said and in which longer pauses do not disturb - on the contrary.

Towards the end of the second line, some tension is built up. What may it be that falls during the pause in the quiet conversation? The resolution “an apple” makes it clear that this conversation and its pauses are open to what is happening in the garden.

A conversation in which a falling apple sounds and is noticed makes it clear that you are not in a hurry or loud, but: You have all the time in the world - for the garden, the neighbors, a few words, a few breaks and - the "event" of a falling apple ...

How well the haiku evokes a human-natural pace of life!


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