A total of 207 haiku and 52 tanka were submitted by 73 authors for this selection.
The deadline for submissions was April 15, 2017. Before the selection began, I anonymized these texts. The jury consisted of Valeria Barouch, Claus Hansson and Helga Schulz Blank. The members of the selection group did not submit their own texts.
All selected texts - 39 haiku and 10 tanka - are published in alphabetical order of the author's names. Up to a maximum of two haiku and two tanka per author are included.
"A haiku / a tanka that appeals to me particularly" - this is the motto for each jury member to choose up to three texts (still anonymized), to present and comment here.

The next deadline for the Haiku / Tanka selection is July 15.07.2017th, XNUMX.
Each participant can submit up to five texts - three of which are haiku. With the submission, the author gives his consent for a possible publication http: /www.zugetextet.com/ .
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.
Only previously unpublished texts can be submitted (also applies to publications in blogs, forums, social media and workshops etc.).
No simultaneous submissions please! From now on you can enter the haiku / tanka yourself:
DHG website / Activities / Haiku tank selection /
Online form
Or please send to: auswahlen@deutschehaikugesellschaft.de
Since the jury should consist of changing participants, I would like to cordially invite all interested DHG members to participate as a jury member in upcoming selection rounds.

Petra Klingl

A haiku that particularly appeals to me

tango eight
for a long time
the embers

Helga Stania

A lot is expressed in very few words. I hear the music - see the man with the accordion, feel the eroticism, the crackle, the mood in the room and how it will continue to be taken home.
Selected and commented by Helga Schulz Blank

Night Train
in every window
another dream

Eva Limbach

Also a few syllables that reverberate. I see people on the night train looking into the dark, hardly seeing anything, but a lot appears before their eyes. They ponder a little, smile, are occupied with themselves, many pass by them, the present and the past - everyone sees something different.
Selected and commented by Helga Schulz Blank

Long-distance
on the highway
thoughtless travel

Sylvia Bacher

It is a bit like the night train - someone is alone in the car, drives very far - eats kilometers after kilometer, looks at what is happening on the road while thinking a lot, maybe even solving problems or just thinking about beautiful things, everyone can do that set for yourself - it's open. The thoughts are free, everyone can do what they want with it, I like it a lot, there's a lot in it, it's well expressed.
Selected and commented by Helga Schulz Blank

first kiss
Give cherry blossoms
face the wind

Anne Holtz

This delicate spring haiku appealed to me the first time I read it. The cherry blossoms (Japanese sakura) are one of the most important symbols of Japanese culture. They stand for pure beauty, departure and transience.
I see the first kiss of a new love as a departure into an exciting and wonderful time. At the beginning of a new love, however, you don't know whether this love will last forever, you don't even ask about it. Nevertheless, you give yourself to this love easily and without worry. The lovers are like cherry blossoms that give themselves to the wind and blow away.
Sakura also stands for another aspect that I had to think about. The cherry blossom is the symbol of the then samurai in Japan, which combines the terms ancestor cult, the soul of Japan and the code of honor of the samurai. Razor blades of the time were often artistically crafted in the shape of a cherry blossom.
This haiku awakens several beautiful images and thoughts in me. A successful haiku for me.
Selected and commented by Claus Hansson

in the sound wheel
touched a ladybug
the silence

Ruth Caroline Mieger

Tone wheel? In my vocabulary there are singing bowls, sticks and bars, but what is a singing wheel? These were my first thoughts when reading the haiku, and it had already captivated me. Then I found the solution on the Internet. Klangrad is a learning tool for attentive and accurate listening and listening.
With this explanation, I now know what a sound wheel is, but the haiku remains open to me in the interpretation. Does the sound wheel make the sound of a ladybug? What sound could a ladybug make? Or did the learner actually touch the learner or the learner during concentrated learning with the sound wheel?
I was haunted by the haiku, I learned something new and I can interpret the haiku in several directions. So for me it is a successful haiku.
Selected and commented by Claus Hansson

Sunset
the rose window
sacrifices its shine

Erika Uhlmann

Who does not know the still life, a rose in front of the window, whose bright colors slowly fade as the sun sets. But is that all the association possibilities in this haiku?
Window roses are found mainly in Gothic churches and are very large, colored glass windows with tracery panels. This is actually what this haiku wants to express. The colors shine in the light of the sun, the window looks powerful, beautiful, calming and harmonious. The church is flooded with light. At sunset, the window rose slowly loses its colors, dawn - but not darkness - moves into the church.
For me it is a successful haiku, because I see two different pictures rising in my mind's eye and can also meditate further into the evening with the word “sacrifice”.
Selected and commented by Claus Hansson

Corner pub -
their margins of mourning for
Greetings from the kitchen

Taiki Haijin

This haiku made me smile. It is the kind that immediately triggers a film in my mind's eye.
Script: After work, guest visits his pub to reward himself with a good meal for the busy day and to enjoy a beer. He stops at the counter because the cook is just passing dishes and beckoning him friendly. There it happens, his gaze hangs on her hands.
Commercial: After the bar to the nail bar - If your nails mourn, we paint flowers, you will not regret it.
Screenplay: Thoughts are pounding in the guest's head: “Does she always have black nails like this? Was she just in the garden and dug up herbs? Goodness, they don't have a garden at all. ”The guest stays for a beer, goes home and cooks himself.
End
The margins of mourning are not all the same. There are - let's say - the clean ones, the ones that you have to buy for manual work and which you then tackle with soap and a brush. Then there are those who romp around in places where they have no business and who leave us with conflicting feelings.
But it seems to me that we see the second variety less and less, but more and more colorful, long works of art from nail salons. As you don't look into every horse's mouth, we don't necessarily want to know what it looks like under the flower meadow or the starry sky.
This haiku instills another thought in me: what happens to the expressive colloquial “mourning edges” when nail bars are expanding and crafting jobs are becoming increasingly scarce? I agree! This expression for dirty nails is under threat. It's time to apply for wildlife conservation for him. The reader should not now think that I am making fun of him. There is an encyclopedia for endangered words and an internet forum where you can register them. Well I've done it, you never know how far away the day is when there are no more dirty nails.
Selected and commented by Valeria Barouch

The selection

The morning after.
Wish I could forgive me
irgendwann

Klemens Antusch

Schnürlregen
childhood
read daily

Sylvia Bacher

Long-distance
on the highway
thoughtless travel

Sylvia Bacher

Evening for two
Crackle foam bubbles
in the bath water

Christa Beau

waiting …
my heart is still beating
in another life

Gerd Borner

Rhine promenade
a tramp
cools his feet

Claudia Brefeld

In the rose garden
her scent
in passing

Horst Oliver Buchholz

one more round
at the roundabout
the cherry blossom wind

Simone K Busch

Toddler in the zoo -
most exciting
the free roaming chicken.

Reinhard Dellbrugge

Dispute -
has the last word
the silence

Frank Dietrich

Cherry trees are blooming
the song of the blackbird sounds
it's spring at last

Gretlies Gehrts

night platform -
homesickness hovers quietly
over the tracks ...

Ruth Guggenmoos-Walter

Corner pub -
their margins of mourning for
Greetings from the kitchen

Taiki Hajin

summer pruning
my shadow
strange to me

Gabriele Hartman

anemones lakes
white floods
forests

Margarete Hihn

pressed forget-me-not
in the diary
pages are missing

Anne Holtz

every spring
this word -
Windflower

Anne Holtz

the mirabelle tree
all in white,
a fleeting dream

Angelica Holweger

The springs raised
the swan drives in the wind -
Why not go sailing?

Reinhard Lehmnitz

Night Train -
in every window
another dream

Eva Limbach

On the marketplace.
In the bowl of the beggar
Water for the dog.

Sigrid Mertens

in the sound wheel
touched a ladybug
the silence

Ruth Caroline Mieger

she is holding him
to the home
the plush lion

Ruth Caroline Mieger

Venus sickle
barely audible her lullaby
in the women's shelter

Eleanor Nickolay

against nuclear power
the brittle sticker
on the fridge door

Sonja Raab

mealy hands
the scratched wedding ring
at the edge of the sink

Sonja Raab

Fields begin
to climb higher here and there
already poppies poppies

Rainer Randig

Winter in the yard
the children kick flowers
in the snow

Rita Rosen

with trembling hand
she paints her spring
the woman in the wheelchair

Sofia was asleep

the jumping
Lamb doesn't know anything
From Easter

Angelica Seithe

tango eight
for a long time
the embers

Helga Stania

Sunset
the rose window
sacrifices its shine

Erika Uhlmann

border crossing
Monks' private alley
Enjoy

Ruth Wellbrock

The stork on the rise -
over cherry blossom seas
cushions high tension

Dagmar Westphal

memorial cross
below the rush of the brook
who took his life

Peter Wissmann

the sea shell ...
I hear the shouting
der Enkel
back then by the sea
they were children

Christa Beau

the shape of the wind
caught in the pastures
at the end of the dream
I'm always the boy
who i am

Tony Bohle

delicacy
the dead hands
open window…
if they will wave again
completely imperceptible ...

Ruth Guggenmoos-Walter

Backfish birthday -
she sings in the kitchen
wrong in English
Rummage in thoughts
the old diary

Taiki Haijin

with stiff legs
he stalks past the house
the love of youth
from its window sockets
wave curtains at him

Gabriele Hartman

In front of the Holsten Gate
the shivering bride
in an airy wedding dress
He pulls her
the veil in front of the face.

Annelie Chalice

Dandelions
grown on the border
our gardens -
Wind from the east
Wind from the west

Eva Limbach

this word
liked at the table
next door
still don't know
whether I should keep it

Eva Limbach

the wind carried it to me
the fragrance of the perfume
my girlfriend of yore?
both no longer exist -
where does this fragrance come from?

Theo Schmich

the Nightingale
in the overgrown garden
weakly mixes
her song in the taste
of a pomegranate

Helga Stania