Space Cup 🚀 Kacchi Award

This is my second time as a judge, following the Winter Sasa Cup.
I kept in mind to choose poems that felt like spring. It goes without saying, but a seasonal word is what makes a season. Before even considering the seasonal word, I asked myself: what is 'spring-like'? The sense of liberation from winter's tension, the excitement for a new life, fresh encounters, the loneliness of parting... I intended to select poems that capture those feelings.

Holding a soft bomb, a spring love

Chamu Kanisawa

I ended up choosing a love poem for first place. Among the soft words like 'soft,' 'holding,' 'spring,' and 'love,' the word 'bomb' is effective. I don't know if it's meant to be detonated on a lover or if it's for self-destruction, but it's a 'soft bomb.' It's a budding love that possesses both a fluffy comfort and a heart-pounding sense of danger. I thought it was a skillful expression. Spring is the perfect season for it. I love it.

Skipping a step toward the spring sky, Converse sneakers

Chie Umino

The composition is similar to Temari-san's Gold Prize-winning poem from the winter tournament: 'Leaping and soaring, a handball in the blue sky.' It has an open view from one's feet up toward the blue sky. I realized once again that I like this kind of breakthrough imagery. The winter handball was good, but the spring Converse sneakers are also light and exciting. I imagined the Converse to be brand new and white, and the 'skipping a step' to be a subway exit, evoking the vitality of a young person starting to live alone in the city. This poem also requires spring—it wouldn't work without the spring sky.

Brand new soaps lined up, spring school building

Reiko Ishida

A school building welcoming new students. It is, of course, wonderful that the freshness is expressed through new soap, but I was impressed by how the seasonal word was captured as 'spring school building.' Even scenes that anyone can imagine can be surprisingly difficult to arrange as a haiku. I believe that if one can use 'spring' or 'spring [something]' appropriately, one can write haiku quite freely without worrying about seasonal words. I thought this was a model example of that.

Tadpoles wriggling on the staff paper of 'Jupiter'

An

I can barely read sheet music, but I thought this was skillful. If sheet music for someone like Chopin is like a row of tadpoles, I can sort of understand why Mahler's sheet music, which is considered complex and literary, is described as 'wriggling tadpoles.' It deviates slightly from the spring-like haiku I mentioned at the beginning, but the kigo (seasonal word) 'tadpole' was used so brilliantly that I chose it.

Reporting tomorrow's move to the swing

Yuzu

Did you play on it yourself, or did you watch your children play? A neighborhood park packed with many memories. When playing on the swing, there must have been practice to get better, and perhaps even injuries. Reporting a move to a swing that has watched over a child's growth. A haiku that makes the swing speak volumes. Yuzu's White Cup final haiku, 'Drying soybeans with my mother who doesn't ask why,' also makes the act of drying soybeans speak volumes. I think it's skillful.

Spring showing through the fresh spring roll, two shrimp

Pukkukun

Spring vegetables showing through the rice paper of the fresh spring roll along with the shrimp. A gentle spring found even in a place like this. Self-assertive despite being understated. It has a broken rhythm, but the sense of rhythm is outstanding. Judge Kameyama's 1st place choice.

Selections by other judges

Announcement of the Platinum, Gold, and Silver Awards