2024 Moon Viewing Haiku Contest Results: Friday, September 13, 2024

Judged by Michael Dylan Welch   

tonight’s moon— 
will there be anyone 
not taking up a brush? 
Onitsura 

The 2024 Moon Viewing event at the Seattle Japanese Garden took place on the two nights of September 12 and 13, and both nights featured haiku contests in celebration of the moon. The first night received 136 entries, and the moon rose briefly between a gap in the pines. On the second night we received 105 poems, with attendance reduced because of intermittent rain. This produced a total of 241 poems, up from 193 in 2023, 91 in 2021, and 176 in 2019 (the moon viewing event did not occur in 2020 or 2022). Because winning poems were not announced on the same evening they were submitted, the time for submissions was longer than at previous moon-viewing events, contributing to an increased number of submissions—and better yet, increased participation as more people could try writing haiku. The following are my selections of three top winners, plus a generous helping of honorable mentions, both each of the two nights. This year there were no prizes for the winners, except for the presentation of selected poems on the garden’s website. 

First Place 

without the moon 
the rain 
smells like home 
Karen Conover

The moon-viewing event at the Seattle Japanese Garden sometimes delivers the moon through or above the trees at the garden’s south end. More often, it seems, clouds hide the moon, and rain might seem to dampen our spirits. But in this poem, while rain might not be welcome when the writer hopes to see the moon, it brings a consolation in pleasantly reminding the poet of home. 

Second Place 

the mist’s cool whisper— 
she still 
pulls tides 
Theo Roffe

The mist here is given a human quality, as if it could whisper. But isn’t that exactly what mists seem to do? The moon is also given human personification, named as “she.” And although we can’t see the moon, because of the mist, we can take comfort in remembering that even an unseen moon still pulls the tides, and perhaps also tugs at our hearts. 

Third Place 

a cold gray night— 
trees cradle 
lantern moons 
Kimberly Espinoza

When a moon-viewing celebration turns cloudy and gray, we can still imagine the moon and its beauty. In this case, at the Seattle Japanese Garden, the round and white lanterns hung in the trees became our moons for the evening, despite the gray clouds. 

Honorable Mentions (in alphabetical order by last name, or first name if no last name was provided) 

late summer— 
behind rainclouds 
the waxing moon 
M. Choksi

full moon rising— 
a warming glow 
on a dark winter night 
Mariah David

cloud-covered moon— 
cool spirits 
brush past my skin 

Kimberly Espinoza

I call to the moon 
but it does not come 
I am alone 
Pat Harris

rain on maple leaves 
the moon is hidden by clouds 
fall in Seattle begins 
Casey Hinds

the orb of white 
nestled between two treetops 
a fleeting moment 
Victor Lui

the moon chose to hide 
now the garden hides with it 
the lanterns turn to stars 
Matild, age 10

brilliant moon 
taking back the night 
from the stars 
Alan Rothblatt