The Porad Haiku Award is Haiku Northwest’s annual haiku contest, started in 2004. In 2025 it attracted 555 submissions from numerous countries.
Jacquie Pearce, Judge
Luke Brannon, Contest Coordinator
Sponsored by Haiku Northwest
collapsed school wall
a butterfly
in shades of charcoal
Chen-ou Liu
Ajax, Ontario
The poet approaches this heavy topic carefully, with concrete details and restraint. The “collapsed school wall” could be a bombed school in Gaza or Ukraine, and it could also represent other types of attacks on schools, learning, and children’s feelings of safety, even in North America. For me, the image of the butterfly also alludes to nature overlooked as human acts of destruction are carried out (the poem also takes on the visual shape of a butterfly when it’s centered). The butterfly, presumably drawn by a child, contrasts poignantly with the medium of charcoal scavenged from ashes and applied to a collapsed wall, as does the adult world of war/politics/destruction and the child’s natural inclination to play and create. We feel a vulnerability and fragility in the image of the butterfly and the alluded-to child. Yet we also sense resilience, bravery, and hope.
the slow creep of twilight
darkens the room
early-onset
John S Green
Bellingham, Washington
This haiku begins as a tranquil image of a quiet time of day (though “creep” may add a subtle hint of menace). Then the third line drops, and we realize that the first part can also be read as a metaphor for the devastating progress of early-onset Alzheimer’s. Despite the emotional darkening, a sense of gentleness remains, suggesting perhaps a close and caring relationship between the poet and the person diagnosed. This poem particularly resonated with me, as I recently lost my mother to dementia.
tide pool
a child’s
O
Sarah Paris
Santa Rosa, California
I love the simple joy and sense of awe experienced by the child in this poem (and perhaps also by the adult enjoying the child’s reaction). The capital “O” in the third line becomes a concrete image of both the shape of the child’s exclaiming mouth and the shape of the tide pool, as well as the sound we hear escaping from the child as they marvel at what they discover within the pool. The poem also becomes a reminder to us, as adults, to not lose our child-like sense of wonder as we experience the world.
so ,
lar
flare. .
)
. . we
* stop
> talk
ing
( to each
oth.
/er
petro c. k.
Seattle, Washington
This creative use of discordant punctuation, interruptions, and line-breaks suggests the way a solar flare might interfere with the function of technology and a sense of disrupted communication and connection in a human relationship.
forest stream
a fawn steps into
itself
Edward Cody Huddleston
Baxley, Georgia
In this deceptively simple and beautiful haiku, a fawn steps into a stream and into its own reflection. We also sense that it is taking its first steps into what is for the fawn a newly discovered world, and into its ontological self—its “deerness.”
festive breeze
a bride’s trousseau
in moonj basket
Lakshmi Iyer
Trivandrum, India
This haiku evokes the feeling of a celebratory breeze moving through a wedding, setting decorations and sarees fluttering. The shift in the air also reflects the change about to happen as the bride opens her trousseau and her new life.
low tide—
a fishbone glitters
on the salt path
C.X. Turner
Atherstone, United Kingdom
I was drawn into this poem by the repeated “s” sounds, the sense of a connection to a past way of life relying on the bounty of the sea, and the feeling that something more is alluded to in the sparkle of the fishbone on the path—perhaps the illusive presence of a predating animal that left the bone behind, or the “treasure” of a lost way of life or a depleted ecosystem, or perhaps even the possibility of a fortune foretold in the pattern of the bones.
rain clouds
a threadbare rabbit
left behind
Paula Sears
Exeter, New Hampshire
This image suggests both a rabbit-shaped cloud tattered by the wind and a child’s stuffed toy left behind as the child outgrows it. We sense change in the weather and in human lives as a child moves on, and a parent, too, may be feeling left behind.
canyon rim
a raven play-stalls
on a crosswind
John Barlow
Ormskirk, United Kingdom
The raven is perhaps flying for the height of the canyon rim, like a basketball player leaping for the hoop, or perhaps it has flown up to the canyon top and leapt off. Either way, the raven is using the crosswind to stall midflight or mid-fall, playing with wings and wind. I imagine the poet, too, vicariously enjoying the raven’s skillful aerial play.
It was a pleasure to read through this year’s Porad submissions. I enjoyed the many wonderfully worded nature images, as well as perceptive expressions of human experience (some humorous, some poignant). The final decision was difficult, as I had more favorites than I could acknowledge, but I love the richness and variety in the haiku box of chocolates presented here.
Jacquie Pearce
Vancouver, British Columbia
Many thanks to everyone who submitted to the 2025 Porad Haiku Award. From across the globe, the 555 haiku submitted reflect the spirit and depth of our shared community. Special thanks to our judge, Jacquie Pearce, for her thoughtful reading and selections. It is no easy task to curate the winning poems and honorable mentions from such a deep and meaningful pool of work. Finally, congratulations to this year’s winners, whose work exemplifies the craft and spirit that the Porad Haiku Award celebrates.
Luke Brannon
Porad Award Coordinator