Xenia Tran
Born: 1962, The Netherlands
Residence: Scotland, UK
Xenia is a linguist, artist, writer, poet and photographer who lives with her husband and adopted animals in the Scottish Highlands. She writes haiku, haibun, tanka, tanka prose and tanka sequences as well as western poetry forms and free verse poetry and plays the handpan.
Caledonian pine
breathing in, breathing out
this stillness
moonlight
on the train’s roof
a thousand acorns
falling leaves . . .
the fifth nurse the first
to hear me
breaking cloud
she dips her brush
in azure
Hauling the Tide, Haiku Society of America Members’ Anthology 2024
a small flavour
of river and sea …
hot-smoked salmon
cherry blossom
the faces I’ll never
see again
Honorable Mention (International Section), Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival 2024 Haiku Invitational
Gretna Green . . .
thirty-three years of roses
since we said 'I do'
first light –
this time my scan says
the thinkable
ah how the rowan
flames into beauty
october sun
the silver light
in a weathered shieling
september moon
across the sandflats
from invisible clouds . . .
light rain
forget-me-nots . . .
light specs of blue appear
through the smoke
rhubarb harvest
a taste of snow and rain
in my hands
To Live Here – A Haiku Anthology, The Wee Sparrow Poetry Press, 2023
one foot
in a tunnel of light
cherry blossom
Honorable Mention (International Section), Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival 2023 Haiku Invitational
mountain village –
a chimney sweeper moth
flits through the grass
lone hiker
his red scarf flaps
in the wind
owl song
mother's hair as white
as the field
evening snow
one by one she packs
the bare branches
autumn moon
my first sixty years
of wandering
his ashes
next to hers
summer rain
summer breeze
the grass waves at anyone
who passes
red berry tea
the birds just starting
to sing
Presence 73, July 2022
Culloden moor
the grass beside the bench
a paler green
eyes so blue
the child’s first glimpse
of the sea
Presence 72, March 2022
evening sun
the sail flutters
while we turn
desert flower
carving out this life
around the sun
village store
the parrot tells us
there’s no bread
Bundled Wildflowers, Haiku Society of America 2020 Member’s Anthology
all souls’ night
my great-grandparents
play in the snow
Autumn Moon Haiku Journal Volume 4:1: Autumn-Winter, 2020-2021
falling petals
he finds his mother
behind the rain
Honorable Mention (International Section), Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival 2020 Haiku Invitational
sunrise
a glance to the left
to see you breathing
Frogpond 43:3, Fall 2020
north wind
lilies of the valley
shelter in place