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: http://www.adelaide-whitepetals.blogspot.com
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
mid-winter
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
closed roller coaster
the winter sea rumbles
through the pilings
New Resonance 3, Red Moon Press, December 2003
Gatherings: An Anthology of Amusement Parks, Carnivals, Fairs and More, Bottle Rocket Press, Spring 2008
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
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
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