USA

  • Lange, Jill

    the fluffy cat who never talks freely sheds his fur everywhere

     

    fire this time the devil denies

  • Larry Bole


    the new graveyard
    slowly the cleared field
    regains its stones

    Modern Haiku, Autumn 1979, Vol. X, No. 3, p. 7

  • Laughing Waters

    the temple bell
    counting my heartbeats
    in the ripples of lake

     

    winter moon
    stays closer to the rooftop
    homeless cat

     

  • Laurie Greer

    student garden
    the orderly rows
    of seedlings

     

    tall grass
    dew stains
    on my knees

     

  • Lee Gurga

    drop a stone a drop of wine in your still waters

     

  • Lee Gurga

    carrying nowhere
    out of moonlight
    blue damselfly

     

    broken bridge:
    something sharp
    something tender

     

    touching
    the other door
    blue asters

     

  • Lee Gurga

    morning purr
    our fig leaves
    dusted with snow



    second childhood
    a dusty box
    of seashells



    retirement party
    mountains mirrored
    in each lens



    kissing the curve
    of your neck
    fireflies


  • Lee Gurga

    night train
    lit from within
    a bobwhite calls

     

    Indian summer
    a pile of leaves becomes
    a pile of little boys

  • Levy, Mark

    old pine
    leafless
    the distant mountain

     

     

    farewell
    kiss
    the salt of her lips

     

     

    endless
    night
    the stars have teeth


  • Lignori, Priscilla

    Slipping off the branch—
    the snow finally reaches
    its destination

    Honorable Mention - 72th Basho Memorial 2018 English Haiku Contest 

  • Lisa Alexander Baron


    Tiny, black-and-white shells
    in a wooden bowl
    like a heap of bees –
           feeling grateful your
           dead words sting less

  • Lisa Baron

    recalling
    in mid-winter, summer blues:
    a blue-dusted cricket,
    a blue-lit spruce, a blue tick
    on the tip of a rabbit's ear
     


    listening
    to my grandmother's story
    carried
    generations back
    on the train of a mere voice

  • Lisa Espenmiller

     

    suspicious for oh fuck elevator memory ride

     

    hand me his gloved hands radiation pill sacrament

     

    fog future right in front of us all we get

     

  • Lisa Espenmiller

    another dry year
    tap water
    spills through my hands

    Modern Haiku, Issue 46:1, Feb., 2015

  • Lisa Espenmiller


    endless sky
    telephone wires
    make it bearable

    Bones, Issue 6, March 15, 2015

  • Lohman, Eric

    sunlight on leaves -
    whatever my worries
    the trees don't care

  • Lohman, Eric

    communion wafer
    such a thin hope

     

    packing for home
    I leave room
    for the last sunrise

  • Lori A. Minor

    same wavelength the sparrow’s V

     

    relapse the moon’s eclipse

     

  • Lori Ann Minor

    summer the heat of his punch

    Troutswirl - Haiku Dialogue: Poet’s Choice, monoku

  • Lucas Stensland

    outside
    the chestnut forest –
    not looking back
     

    empty bottles
    last night is so far    
    ...from here
     

    shade garden
    a Dickinson poem    
    etched on a log
     

    wind waving
    goodbye for now . . .
    tobacco leaf
     

    her eyes
    when I take her side  . . .  
    dandelions

    Lucas Stensland's an American living in Minneapolis, Minnesota. His poems have appeared in a variety of publications including: American Tanka,  FrogpondRibbonsThe Heron’s NestNotes From the Gean, Presence, and Roadrunner