Errors made

I’m repeating a posting I’ve made this morning at Haiku NewZ, because I think it’s an important issue.

The Apokalipsa Haiku Contest (Slovenia) has disqualified one of the three haiku that judges had selected as First equal. After the awards had been made on September 24, it was discovered that the haiku by Ernest J Berry of New Zealand was a very slightly modified version of one of his which had won the James W Hackett contest (run by the British Haiku Society) in 2008 and been published in white lies, the Red Moon anthology of 2009.

family bible
a wisp of baby hair
in genesis

– First equal Apokalipsa contest 2016; disqualified

family bible
a wisp of baby hair
in Revelation

– First place, James W Hackett Award 2008, published white lies, 2009

The judges say (in translation): “The commission unanimously believes that it is the same haiku, although [there is a] word change … in the third line, so unfortunately it cannot be taken into account. The other two first prizes remain unchanged.”

The two poets who share First prize are Marinko Kovačević of Croatia and Dimitrij Škrk of Slovenia. Ernie also had 4 Commended haiku.

I’ll also note another similar, recent example I’ve come across.

spring sunset
the breath of a fawn
ripples the pond

– Ramesh Anand, First place, European Haiku Society Contest 2016 (announced in April and for which he won €700)

spring dawn
the breath of a fawn
ripples the pond

– Ramesh Anand, Paper Wasp 22.2, 2016 (submissions closed at the end of May)

As it was the final issue of Paper Wasp, the editors were disappointed but not inclined to follow up.

I draw no conclusions about the motivations (if any) of these poets but note this isn’t the first time Ernie has been caught out like this.

Such examples should be a warning to us all to keep meticulous records of published and unpublished work – and to be very clear on what constitutes acceptable writing practice. Read my thoughts in the essay Cleaning up our Act and Michael Dylan Welch’s response to that, Plagiarism and Deja-ku.

Postscript: It never rains but it pours …

Word has just reached me that The Living Haiku Anthology Contest which announced its prizes this week has “vacated” first place after discovering the haiku had already been published! All other prizes will stand.

starry night
I carve the constellations
on his skin

– Diksha Sharma, First place, Living Haiku Anthology contest 2016, disqualified

Published as a single-line haiku in Asahi Haikuist Network, September 2, 2016.

starry night —
I trace the constellations
on his skin

– Diksha Sharma, published cattails haiku journal, May 2016

Second postscript: Another reader has pointed me to this:

starry night —
I carve the constellations
on his skin

– Diksha Sharma, published Sharpening the Green Pencil e-anthology (Romanian Kukai Group), April 2016

So this haiku was published a whopping three times before the author entered it in the Living Haiku Anthology contest! It seems obvious, but maybe the point needs to be made that contest entry rules should be read carefully. Most of them say “unpublished and not under consideration elsewhere” …

Recent poems

Lovely surprise this morning – the results of the new European Haiku Prize landed in my inbox. No monetary reward, unfortunately, but I had a haiku selected in the Distinguished Poet category (a Commended?) which will appear in the contest anthology.

tea from a rough bowl
             we open the window to rain

– Sandra Simpson

Tea-time at Eikando Zenrin Temple in Kyoto. Photo: Sandra Simpson

Staying at a traditional Japanese hotel is a lot of fun – especially when it includes an onsen (in Kiwi parlance, hot pools). Fresh tea and a small ‘cake’ is brought immediately after you’ve arrived in your room and served at the low table. My favourite tea ‘cake’ is the chestnut-paste square, known as tochi-mochi (栃もち), which is, naturally, an autumn treat.

Tochi is Japanese for horse chestnut but – as we should all know – horse chestnuts are the ones that can’t be eaten because they’re toxic. The clever Japanese, though, have found a way around and you can read about that here.

This haiku was written last year while staying at the Yumoto Fujiya Hotel in Hakone and is pretty much as it happened.

Farewell to A Hundred Gourds, an online journal that I shall miss greatly. Lorin Ford has been an excellent haiku editor and her final selection is well worth a read – including three of my own humble efforts. The archives will be available for the foreseeable future so do have a look if you don’t already know this publication.

bull kelp
sliding in and out of sight
a fur seal

– Sandra Simpson

Fur seals frolicking in Otago Harbour. Photo: Sandra Simpson

NZ fur seals were almost obliterated by the coming of people to these islands – the few the Maori left were soon hunted down by European sealers after their skins and blubber. Read more here. Fortunately, sanity finally prevailed and in 1978 kekeno became a protected species. They are now the most common seal sighted and their numbers are growing. Read more here.

Finally, two haiku in the latest issue of The Heron’s Nest, a red-letter day!

cumulonimbus —
the slow grind of continents
beneath my feet

– Sandra Simpson

I’ve had this one around for a little while, but couldn’t get any recognition for it so entered it into an online kukai* that I belong to. One of the participants, whose work I admire enormously, said: “Coming from California I have written many haiku on earthquakes and unsteady ground, and even this knowledge of grinding continents. I will stop. L2 and 3 say it perfectly. The contrast between the smooth glide if clouds is wonderful.” Woohoo!

So I sent it off again, and what do you know? The haiku was written while on a ginko** at Te Puna Quarry Park.

*Kukai = peer-judged contest or workshop. Poems are entered anonymously and participants vote for their favourites (you can’t vote for your own), offering constructive comments as to why they like a haiku or why they think something doesn’t work.

**Ginko = a group walk to observe, take notes, make word sketches and write haiku. Often a kukai at the end.