Adelaide B. Shaw

Adelaide B. Shaw lives in Somers, NY, USA. She is the mother of three Children and grandmother of six. Adelaide been creating Japanese poetic forms–haiku, haibun, tanka , senryu and photo haiga–for nearly 50 years, has been published widely and placed well in several contests. Her collection of haiku, An Unknown Road, published by Modern Tanka Press, won third place in the Haiku Society of America’s Mildred Kanterman Merit Book Award. Her second book of haiku, The Distance I’ve Come, is available on Cyberwit and Amazon. Adelaide also writes fiction and has been published in several journals. Some of her published Japanese short form poetry are posted on her blog:


quiet morning
yesterday’s geese
gone from the pond

Presence, Autumn 2017

a wasp
caught between window and screen
the paths we take

Never Ending Story, June 2017

dappling sunlight
on the polished floor

Stardust, January 2017

winter hills
clinging to craggy rocks
an ice fall

Shamrock, October, 2017

May morning
she colors her trees
bubble gum pink

Acorn, Winter 2017

dog days
squeaks from the sprinkler
become squeals

Heron’s Nest, June 2018

first day of fishing
on the creek bridge
fathers, sons, grandsons

Shamrock, Summer 2018

garage sale
three rusted sleds
held back for next year

Modern Haiku, Winter 2019

sea star
the many times
you renew me

Frameless Sky, Winter 2019

outdoor café
no extra charge
for cherry blossoms

Heron’s Nest, June 2019


spattering rain . . .
in the woods ten minutes
and still not wet

Dragonfly, V.2, No. 2, April 1974


fading dusk
children and fireflies
dance on the lawn

Modern Haiku, V.34, No. 3, Summer 2003


dinner time–
bouncing through the playground
a wind filled bag

Raw Nervz, IX:2, summer 2004


a quiet afternoon
the pinwheel turns
only halfway

Heron’s Nest, v.6, No. 9, September 2004


the January cold–
a pile of walnut shells
found in the attic

South by Southeast, V. 12, No. 1, January 2005


pumpkin farm
spreading across the field
rows of people

Snapshots, #11, February 2006


the heavy air–
a pause at midday
to collect myself

Haiku Harvest, V. 6, No. 1, Spring 2006


nothing to do. . .
we sit and listen
to the pulsing heat

Haiku Harvest, V. 6, No. 1, Spring 2006


beach picnic
the rising tide nibbles
on the sand castle

Shamrock, #3 , 2007


two dragonflies
skimming over the pond–
frog on a rock

Simply Haiku, February, 2008


munching red grapes
this November morning
a crunch in my step

Simply Haiku, Autumn, 2008


fading blue sky–
insect voices
find their rhythm

Acorn, #20, Spring 2008


fresh eggs
in the winter hen house
warming my hands

Haiku Reality, June 12, 2008, Best of Issue


low tide–
something unseen
nibbling my toes

Presence #35, June 2008


April sunset–
the orange cat
visits again

Modern Haiku, 39:3, Autumn 2008


changing houses
the spring sun
gentles the move

3 Lights Gallery, October 2008


sitting with the night
the soft summer sibilance
of insect voices

Presence, #37, January 2009


tenth floor–
a picture window view
of fog

Notes from the Gean, No.1, June 2009


tea roses–
her memory clings
to the scent

Presence #39, September, 2009


mosquito landing–
the light touch on my hand
before it bites

Daily Haiku, March 4, 2010


leisurely lunch–
the bouquet of peonies
drops a petal

Daily Haiku, April, 27, 2011


full moon
on my neighbor’s porch
a new light

Daily Haiku, August 31, 2011


stacking stones
for a garden wall
the weight of their age

Kaji Asi Studio Contest, Honorable Mention, May 2012


Memorial Day
a passing dragonfly
dips its wings

Modern Haiku, V.43.3, Autumn, 2012


freshly plowed field–
purple wildflowers
outside the fence

Bottle Rockets, V.13, No.2, (#26) Winter 2012


Japanese garden
from one path to another
nothing on my mind

Under the Basho, 2014


the paper rustle
of eucalyptus–
still no rain

Heron’s Nest, Vol. XVI, No. 1, March 2014


cave echoes
my mistakes
come rushing back

Frogpond, v. 37:3, Autumn 2014

distant rumbles
a trembling surface
on the pond

Loch Raven Review, Vol. 11, No. 2, October 2015


cooler morning
the end of summer comes
with dewy feet

Bottle Rockets, Vol. 17, No 1, (No.33)


walking at night
my imagination
follows me home

Heron’s Nest, Vol. XVII, No. 2, June 2015


rolling fog
the bridge over the bay
split in two

Cattails, September 2015


picture window
a wasp tries
all directions

Bottle Rockets, Vol. 6, No.2, (No. 32)

lake reflections
the no color sky
of winter

Cattails, January 2015 

bees at work–
sweating out the afternoon
in the hammock

Cattails, September 2016


feathery clouds
trailing on the wind
apple blossoms

Basho Memorial Museum Basho Contest October 2016, Commendation


ice crusted snow
the crunch. . . crunch
of mocha toffee

A Hundred Gourds, 5:2, March 2016


pond willows–
a slight movement
in the algae

Presence  #55, Summer 2016

filling the emptiness
between graves

Frogpond 39.3, Autumn 2016


ice floes–
stop and go traffic
on the river road


frigid temps–
the radiator’s soft ping
in the night

a wall of fog–
the early spring morning
begins with a fawn


spring thaw–
that dirt road
going nowhere still


February thaw–
the easy weight loss–
of the snowman


another birthday–
roadside wildflowers
past their peak


fire-red lilies–
a radiating heat
at sunset


day after Christmas
a dumped tree
still decorated


mountain cabin
discovering spring
on level ground


autumn decorations–
I let the leaves stay
where they fall