The Frost Entomological Museum congratulates the poets of the 2022 Hexapod Haiku Challenge!
This year’s Hexapod Haiku Challenge set new records for the number of entries and the number of countries represented. The judges read more than 650 haiku by poets in 32 countries!
Below are this year’s selections, organized by age category and with notes on each haiku from the judges. The selection process is blind, and our judges look for haiku highlighting interesting observations of, and interactions with, the insect world. This year we saw an extraordinary amount of excellent haiku from the 12 & Under and 13–17 categories. Well done!
We sincerely hope that the process of writing haiku for this challenge has brought you closer to nature and facilitated a greater appreciation for our world’s tiny inhabitants.
We especially want to thank Anne Burgevin, for helping the folks at the Frost Entomological Museum plan and manage this contest.
Navigate to Haiku Laureates
Ages 12 & Under
Ages 13 – 17
Ages 18 & Older
Navigate to Honorable Mentions
Ages 12 & Under
Ages 13 – 17
Ages 18 & Older
Navigate to
closing remarks from the organizers
Haiku Laureates: Ages 12 & Under
first haiku
a ladybug lands
on my diary
– Seby Ciobica
Romania
If ever there was a haiku that perfectly encapsulates our mission with the Hexapod Haiku Challenge—i.e., to observe the natural world of insects and translate one’s observations into poetry—this is it. What a fortunate and almost unexpected moment, to initiate one’s hexapod haiku journey and have the inspiration arrive with such immediacy! Insects are such an integral and ubiquitous part of the world; perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised that the opportunity to interact with insects was so easy. The poet gracefully connects the reader with this moment, through simple language, a clear break between the fragment and the phrase, and touches of alliteration and euphony with ladybug and lands, and haiku and diary respectively. We join the poet on their first step of their journey into the intersection of insects and haiku.
a campfire
sweet smell of corn on the cob
inviting a moth
– Ivan Jozić
Rijeka, Croatia
The attraction of moths to light, a phenomenon scientists call “positive phototaxis”, is a common theme in traditional haiku. Issa, for example, wrote several poems about tiger moths (Arctiinae) succumbing to the flames of bonfires. This haiku, however, offers a delightful twist to that classic theme, by setting the scene with a campfire but alluding to the fact that the sweet smell of corn on the cob might be what lures the moth. The haiku is vivid and sensuous, with a refined use of alliteration in the second line. We imagine sitting by a fire at night, the air thick with the rich smells of burning wood and sweet corn. No wonder the moth wants to be there. Perhaps this moth is a female corn earworm (Helicoverpa zea), looking to oviposit?
chubby caterpillar
wobbles along
ready for change
– Aliyah Alchin
New Zealand
One way to combat negative perceptions of arthropods is to highlight the ways that we are alike, to focus on those relatable experiences we share. This haiku is relatable on multiple levels. Who hasn’t watched a chubby caterpillar wobbling across a footpath or sidewalk, during the wandering phase of its development? Who hasn’t felt as if they’ve outgrown themselves and are ready for something new? These connections, paired with the playful and melodic words “chubby” and “wobbles”, made this haiku stand out as a favorite. The way a haiku appears on the page is an important component of its meaning. Three words in this haiku have double letters. One judge even thought the haiku wobbles along on the page just like the caterpillar does.
The entomologists amongst us recognized the rare reference to an interesting physiological point in a caterpillar’s development. Caterpillars are highly adapted for eating; they’re basically giant tubes that convert plants to frass. Their job, morning, noon, and night, is essentially to eat. How do they know when it’s time to shed their old exoskeleton in favor of a new, larger and more accommodating skin? How do they understand that they’re “chubby enough”, and it’s time to metamorphose into an adult? Those signals are produced by neurons that act as stretch receptors. When certain parts of the caterpillar’s body are stretched enough it knows it’s time for change. Often, when a caterpillar senses that it’s time to go through metamorphosis it will enter what’s called the “wandering phase”, where it wobbles along, looking for a quiet site away from its host plant, to pupate. This haiku captures the complexity of this physiology and its stages in a mere seven words.
Haiku Laureates: Ages 13 – 17
black pebble
unfolding
into a beetle
– Almila Dükel
Mugla, Turkey
This is an outstanding and clearly exceptional hexapod haiku. The poet concisely describes an intimate observation of a defensive behavior common to many arthropods, especially Coleoptera: rolling up and playing dead (thanatosis). The beetle that superficially looks like a pebble, however, eventually unfolds, revealing its true nature. The haiku describes a slice of entomology not often written about, but many are familiar with. The two images, a black pebble and a beetle, are hinged by the middle line which is simply a single word, “unfolding,” as though the format and structure of the words in the haiku exactly mirror the imagery being conveyed. The poet’s haiku embodies the Japanese aesthetic called zoka, which David Barnhill, in his book Basho’s Journey: The Literary Prose of Matsuo Basho, describes well: “It is the vitality and creativity of nature, its tendencies and ability to undergo beautiful and marvelous transformations.”
ripe grapes
the cobweb
getting fuller
– Leon Skara
Rijeka, Croatia
Spiders find themselves in the land of milk and honey when they take up residence in grapevines, where many potential prey insects are attracted to fresh foliage and ripe fruit. Was this spider increasing the size its web by adding more and more silken threads, in anticipation of more prey? Or was this cobweb, situated next to the ripe grapes at the end of the season, getting fuller with more and more unsuspecting insects? Is this spider a black widow (Latrodectus mactans), a species of cobweb spider sometimes found in bags of commercial grapes? The poet leaves the answers to these questions up to the reader and thereby creates yugen, or a sense of mystery. The beautiful text of this haiku on paper pairs well with beautiful imagery of a summer day, ripe with life. For example, the two p’s in the first line, which are paired in an inverted fashion with two b’s on the second line, end the haiku with two sets of double letters in the last line. Like popping ripe grapes into one’s mouth, this haiku is satisfying to read aloud as it is to see written.
sakura…
the legs of a bumblebee
more and more yellow
– Ivan Sironic
Rijeka, Croatia
This haiku seemed to grow layers the longer it was discussed. It has elements of tradition (i.e., the reference to cherry blossoms), illustrates interesting insect biology, contains vivid imagery, and feels active and in the moment. Flower visitation and pollination by insects are not uncommon themes in haiku, but the poet adds a fresh dimension by focusing on the behavior of pollen collection, and the changing color of the pollen ball. The last line, “more and more yellow” suggests that maybe the bumble bee was previously visiting a different plant with a different color pollen, but as the bee works the cherry blossoms the color of the pollen ball begins to transform. Focusing in on the legs of the bumble bee, which are equipped with pollen-carrying structures called corbiculae, brings the reader’s attention to tiny details within a larger moment. This haiku offers a fresh perspective to the familiar topic of pollination, and to be able to write a unique haiku about cherry blossoms and bees is quite an accomplishment.
Haiku Laureates: Ages 18 & Older
wind storm
an unveiling
of the ash borer’s art
– Julie Schwerin
United States
This haiku finds beauty in devastation. The emerald ash borer (Agrilus planipennis) has wreaked havoc on forests in North America, killing tens of millions of ash trees since it was discovered in southeastern Michigan, out of its native range, 20 years ago. The ash borer larvae tunnel under ash bark, eating the cambium and disrupting the parts of the tree responsible for distributing water, minerals, and important nutrients throughout the plant. Cutting off water and nutrients effectively kills the ash trees, and when their bark falls away the ash borer tunnels (called galleries) are left behind. Despite the destruction, the tunneling grooves of the ash borers create striking patterns that are impossible to ignore. The judges found this juxtaposition, between the destruction and death of ash trees and the creation of something beautiful and almost admirable, to be extraordinarily compelling, if not a little sad. This technique is called wabi-sabi and when used skillfully, as is done here, it conveys an appreciation for the imperfections in the world and the processes of decay.
a bluebottle
everywhere
until it isn’t
– Tony Williams
Scotland, UK
Bluebottle flies (Calliphora vomitoria) are rarely highlighted in poetry, so this haiku caught our attention. These shiny, beautiful, metallic blue flies are quick and adept fliers… you can almost hear and feel the fly zipping past your head. Then the third line delivers a shift in perspective. The reader imagines and wonders where it went, just as they might wonder about a fly that has been buzzing through one’s home or around one’s head and is suddenly quiet or gone. Did it find a nice flower to feed on, or carrion to lay eggs in? Is it resting on a screen window? The ending of this haiku suggests a slight sense of mystery, yugen, with a touch of karumi (lightness or humor).
after the hurricane
a tsunami
of mosquitoes
– Ali Znaidi
Redeyef, Tunisia
This haiku provides a powerful take on a very real human experience. Hurricanes are usually disastrous and tragic events, leaving not only carnage in their wake but also countless objects filled with still water – the perfect habitat for developing mosquitoes. Mosquitoes are not just a nuisance; they can also be incredibly dangerous, as disease vectors of medical and veterinary importance. In fact, vector-borne diseases kill more than 700,000 people annually, more than an order of magnitude more than die in natural disasters. This haiku piles disaster on disaster, skillfully referencing a second natural disaster, a tsunami, to metaphorically describe the onslaught of mosquitos that comes after a hurricane. The third line startles the reader, almost adding an element of humor through its surprise. Mosquitoes are small but have an outsized impact on the world. Likewise, this poem effects an outsized emotional response in merely seven words. The poet conveys the big picture of a natural disaster and the ensuing aftermath by focusing our attention on these tiny hexapods.
Honorable Mentions: Ages 12 & Under
flying through
leaves of trees
into sticky silk
– Emma Martin
New Zealand
The first two lines of this haiku set a carefree scene of an insect in flight. We imagine the thrill of watching the greenery fly by, the breeze caressing our compound eyes, while gliding weightless. Such freedom! The third line, however, brings this jaunty journey to an abrupt, almost shocking end. What a twist! The poem never identifies the subject or the cause of its sticky demise. We imagine an insect and a spider, but maybe it’s a bird, who runs afoul of caterpillar silk. The poet allows readers to imagine their own scenes, while they bask in the skilled wordsmith—the lovely long E’s of “leaves” and “trees”, for example, paired with the alliterative “sticky” and “silk”.
end of summer
my granny’s garden
blue with butterflies
– Frane Butkovic
Rijeka, Croatia
This haiku sets a mysterious and subtle scene. Has granny planted something that attracts blue butterflies? Or has the garden been left to grow wild, as the end-of-summer weeds take over and attract more than the usual insect life? Butterflies inundate the garden, even altering its color. We feel their energy, which has almost a cooling effect (blue) that combats the heat of late summer. The haiku offers both the old fashioned comfort of granny’s garden and the fresh feeling of blue butterflies, a well-crafted contrast.
a leaf crinkles
as the beetle shimmies
across its edge
– Jai Haysom
New Zealand
Although this haiku seems to describe an explicit, well-defined moment, the poet actually leaves (no pun intended!) much to the imagination. Do you envision the beetle on the ground, in the dry leaf litter? Or do you see the beetle above you, in the canopy on fresh foliage? Our judges each had a unique interpretation. To hear a crinkling sound, or to see a leaf fold with a crinkle, requires unusual intimacy and focus. “Crinkle” and “shimmies” are peculiar yet pleasant words that are fun to read aloud.
nightfall
humming a lullaby
for a little baby bug
– Seby Ciobica
Romania
This tender haiku features a child’s relationship with insects before that child develops negative feelings for insects, as often happens as children grow up. The surprise ending triggered our own childhood memories of playing with insects outside, knowing they wouldn’t be allowed inside, and saying goodbyes before heading indoors for the evening. This haiku is infused with kokoro, a Japanese aesthetic that suggests a depth of feeling, a heart connection. The double letters in this haiku remind us of the wooden spindles of a cradle or crib, which then further enhances the moment and place the author describes.
Honorable Mentions: Ages 13 – 17
desk lamp
a ladybug’s shadow
stretches
– Allison Xu
Maryland, United States
Poems about ladybird beetles almost invariably focus, in part, of the contrasting and vibrant color patterns of these insects. These insects are common and conspicuous, making them easy, almost cliché subjects. This haiku, however, manages to retain the visual acuity of the subject, by referencing the ladybird’s shape and form as interpreted through its shadow, while avoiding any reference to its color. The poet writes of the morphing shape of the shadow. Is the ladybird moving farther away from the lamp? Or maybe the shadow stretches with the setting sun, and the poet has found a quiet companion to pass the time distracting her from doing some other, less-interesting task? The haiku is concise, satisfyingly ambiguous, and the last line adds a new and unexpected element to the scene with a well placed verb.
Queen butterflies
a field of purple mist flowers
sprinkled with dew
– Elsa Krol
Pennsylvania, United States
This haiku brings together two species—Queen butterflies (Danaus gilippus) and mistflowers (Conoclinium coelestinum)—but leaves the nature of their symbiosis unstated. Plants have complicated relationships with butterflies. Many herbs rely on insects for pollination and therefore provide nectarous rewards. Other herbs end up as food for the butterflies’ larvae and therefore produce toxic chemicals as a deterrent. A reader unfamiliar with the biology of these two species might feel the tension of this haiku, wondering what will happen in this meadow as the day progresses. (Queen larvae feed on milkweeds, so these mistflowers are safe!) Hexapod haiku rarely zero-in on explicit species-species pairings; most of the haiku we read reference more general classes of insects (e.g., “beetles”, or “butterflies”). The judges acknowledged that haiku with specific details tend to resonate well. The poet also paints a vivid scene, rich with contrasting yet complementary colors (orange against purple) and multiple references to moisture (“mist”, “sprinkle”, and “dew”), which strengthens the poem’s juxtaposition, an essential element of haiku.
rainy spring
flying spiders invade
the headlines
– Huck Tritsch
Pennsylvania, United States
This haiku, which references the Jorō spider (Trichonephila clavata), is quite timely, at least for the northeastern USA. This orb-weaving spider, which is large, brightly colored, and exotic-looking, first arrived in the southeastern United States in 2013. Recent news articles sensationalized this spider’s biology, however, and stirred fear in the public that these spiders will soon be “invading” the northeastern United States and will “rain” down on us from above (these articles are referencing the ballooning behavior of spiderlings, a common dispersal mechanism for many spiders). This haiku captures the sensationalism well, with the words “rainy” and “invade”, employing a Japanese aesthetic called karumi, or light humor. The third line is a surprise, and shifts the imagery from one that is outdoors in nature, to perhaps a newspaper on a table, or news article on a computer screen.
sagging clotheslines
vibrate with
the rasp of cicadas
– Allison Xu
Maryland, United States
During a mass emergence of cicadas—an eruption of cicadas—like those that we witness in the northeastern USA, the abundance of these insects can be extraordinary. The singing can be deafening, and the weight of their bodies affects everything around them. We feel their mass in this haiku. Cicadas apparently are so abundant in this moment that they spill over from the trees, their natural habitat, and occupy inanimate objects. The clothesline sags under their weight, a unique visual component that compliments the auditory element of the cicadas’ sound. The description in the last line—the rasp of cicadas—captures the reverberant song of these insects.
Honorable Mentions: Ages 18 & Older
an empty web
in my shower
where is it
– Susan Burch
Maryland, United States
Where is it? Is the bather concerned for the wellbeing of the missing spider or herself? The mystery of this familiar moment initially delighted the judges, bringing a round of smiles. After a longer discussion, however, we recognized what is perhaps a more somber element in these lines. The word “empty” is pivotal in this haiku, suggesting change, death, movement, loneliness, or maybe something even deeper.
house for sale –
her yard full
of butterflies
– Capotă Daniela Lăcrămioara
Romania
This haiku provides a bit of ambiguity which is an important feature of successful haiku. The gap or space between the fragment (house for sale) and the phrase (her yard full of butterflies) is perfectly sized. The poet creates ma, or space, in their haiku and thereby invites the reader to imagine and wonder. Why is the house for sale? Has the yard gone wild, left unattended? Is the person viewing the house seeing the butterflies as some sort of sign to buy? As you can see, the judges’ thoughts traveled on many different paths as we appreciated the layers of meaning in this haiku. We all agreed that a yard full of butterflies is a wonderful outcome, no matter the reasons.
picking mushrooms . . .
a suspended spider’s web
coats my mother’s face
– Goran Gatalica
Croatia
Who hasn’t walked face-first into a spiderweb? The shock of this experience is almost always comical, especially when it happens to a companion. We also wondered, why the mother? Perhaps the poet recalls a memory of a time when their mother was too distracted searching for mushrooms to see the suspended spider web right in front of her face. This haiku is full of earthy and warm qualities–the smell of mushrooms and dirt, the texture of spider silk, laughter, harvesting food from the wild, and spending time with family.
that feeling
of being watched…
ant farm
– Greg Schwartz
United States
This haiku provides a fresh perspective on insect observations. How cognizant are insects of us observing them? Do they know? This humorous haiku reminds us that—just like the ants in an ant farm—we too are part of a much larger world than we see on a day-to-day basis with our own eyes.
We will leave on that note, with a reminder to continue appreciating the peculiarities, the beauty, and the far-reaching impact of insects on our world. Thanks for participating in Hexapod Haiku 2022. We invite you to share the contest with friends, family, and fellow writers, and we hope to see you again next year!
