White Bear Cup Jury Prize Six Haiku [White Prize]

Well, this day has come around again. I'm using flick input on my smartphone, so please forgive any awkward phrasing or typos.😏
Now, here is the announcement for the White Prize!

Winter plum blossoms, the palm reader's hands are soft

【Seasonal Word】Winter plum
In a word, this is a wonderful haiku that satisfies the five senses. Was it Yokogao-chan? As expected.
First, the selection of the seasonal word.
As the name suggests, winter plum blossoms bloom a step ahead of others in the cold, and amidst the withered colors of the surroundings, they are eye-catching flowers with a faint scent. It is a seasonal word that resonates with the feeling of waiting for the arrival of spring.

In contrast, the twelve sounds of the middle and lower phrases, which at first glance seem unrelated to the seasonal word, are "the palm reader's hands are soft."
A palm reader is, of course, a fortune teller who reads your palm, so the other person's hands touch yours, and those hands were soft. In other words, there is a tactile sensation there.
The landing on "are soft" is wonderful. When I see this phrasing, the texture of the palm reader's hands touching my own, and the fact that the words the palm reader spoke were gentle to me, all come across at once. If it were me, I would have thought of "are warm," and then immediately corrected myself, thinking, "No, 'are warm' is a seasonal word!"
As for the poem as a whole, because there is a break with the cutting word "ya" after the winter plum, the upper phrase and the middle/lower phrases are completely separated, but when you return to the upper phrase after reading everything, it resonates anew.
Under the winter plum, the subject having their palm read is likely someone heading to a new life with hope from the spring, and they are having their fortune told before their departure, perhaps with the intention of getting some encouragement. Perhaps the winter plum is blooming dignifiedly, drifting a faint fragrance as if to celebrate the subject's future.
Thank you for the wonderful haiku.

Winter crow caws, dismantling the scaffolding

【Seasonal Word】Winter crow
The author is Naoki-chan. Oh, nice to meet you. I look forward to your work. When I choose a haiku from someone I'm meeting for the first time like this, I feel happy. Perhaps it's because I feel that the base of the Everyone's Haiku Tournament is steadily expanding.
Now, about the poem. The seasonal word is winter crow. There is also the character for crow (烏), but I prefer this character (鴉).
I recognize the winter crow as a seasonal word that carries a sense of loneliness, as if it were standing all by itself. Perhaps the character for cold (寒) is effective.

In this poem, the author uses a small technique of placing the cutting word "ya" at the eighth sound, "Winter crow caws ya." Usually, one would place the break at the end of the upper, middle, or lower phrases, but here it is placed in the middle of the middle phrase.
By placing the cutting word there, the focus is on the "cawing" voice of the winter crow rather than its appearance.

The following nine sounds, "dismantling the scaffolding," change the scene from the first half. Since "scaffolding" is built to allow work in high or unstable places at construction sites, "dismantling" means the work is finished and the final cleanup has begun.
To begin with, when do you build scaffolding?
For example, you build scaffolding when building a house, but somehow this poem makes me imagine it was for "destruction," such as tearing down or removing useless buildings, rather than scaffolding for "creation" to build something new. That might be the power of the seasonal word "winter crow." If it said "winter sunshine," the image would be completely different.
The slightly lonely and desolate image of the winter crow resonates with the scene of dismantling, or so to speak, scrapping, resulting in a poem that makes one feel a certain pathos.
This was also a poem with a brilliant selection of seasonal words.
Thank you for the wonderful haiku.

Rice cake period, curry on an enamel sign

【Seasonal Word】Rice cake period (mochiai)
The rice cake period refers to the time from the New Year's rice cakes, that is, from the mirror opening until the Little New Year, which means from the 7th to the 15th, so it refers to the 8th to the 14th. In addition to the four seasons, seasonal words have a category called "New Year," and the rice cake period is a seasonal word for the New Year season.
Seasonal words for time are generally broad and abstract, representing rough periods like the twenty-four solar terms or months, but because the word "rice cake" is in the rice cake period, it makes one imagine rice cakes concretely.
In contrast to the first half, the second half is "curry on an enamel sign."
This is also just a sign, not the curry itself, but the spicy taste and aroma of that curry rise up together, don't they?

During the New Year, people often eat New Year's dishes, including osechi, but by the time of the mirror opening, one gets tired of that bland taste. At such a time, what jumped into view was an enamel sign for curry.
Speaking of enamel signs, they are the kind of Showa retro signs, so a nostalgic atmosphere naturally rises.
Furthermore, the shift from the atmosphere of Japanese New Year's dishes evoked by the rice cake period to curry, a representative of Western food favored by the Japanese, stimulates both taste and smell, and the contrast is truly effective. It can be said that there are many devices in each phrase without waste. Bland and rich, Japanese and Western, New Year's events and Taisho/Showa retro feelings. They clarify each other's outlines. This is really skillful.
I thought it was the work of a quite skilled person, and it was Hirokatsu Kikuchi. That makes sense.
Perhaps the appearance of the characters was also carefully considered, and the balance is exquisite by inserting the katakana "enamel" between the kanji with many strokes, "rice cake period" and "curry." One word: masterful. I want to be able to compose such precise haiku too.
Thank you for the wonderful haiku.

Have giant tortoises gone extinct? I peck at the hot pot

【Seasonal Word】None... Do you see the hot pot as a seasonal word?
I haven't looked at all the almanacs, so maybe it exists, but a hot pot probably doesn't become a seasonal word on its own; it only becomes one when it's a specific hot pot, like a mixed hot pot or Ishikari hot pot. However, this is the Everyone's Haiku Tournament where poems that feel like winter are okay, and when you say hot pot, you imagine the hot pot that each person has in mind, so I treat it as a seasonal word in my mind. ...With that premise.

This poem is structured as upper/middle phrases and a lower phrase.
The upper and middle phrases, "Have giant tortoises gone extinct?"
This part can actually be taken as a question or an exclamation, depending on the intonation. If you raise the end of the sentence, "Have giant tortoises gone extinct?" it sounds like you are asking, "Wait, did giant tortoises go extinct?" On the other hand, if you read it like "Have giant tortoises gone extinct..." it sounds like you are muttering with deep emotion, "Have they finally gone extinct?"
And the lower phrase. The five sounds including the seasonal word "peck at the hot pot" have a lightness that doesn't feel very urgent compared to the upper and middle phrases.
It feels like it's stating the disturbing word "extinction" while having an atmosphere of something happening on the other side of the shore, and it is too light compared to the first half.
From such phrasing, one can even feel a satire that we modern people are taking the extremely heavy "extinction" of a species being wiped out as mere information, very lightly.
I am not threatened in my own life, and while peacefully pecking at a hot pot, I discuss lives on the verge of extinction. Perhaps the subject of the poem pecks at the hot pot while harboring a dangerous premonition that they might be in that position the next moment.

By the way, there are species of giant tortoises that are said to have already gone extinct, and species that are on the verge of extinction, even if they haven't gone extinct yet, unless the current individuals can spin new life. Both are due to human hands, the species that overhunted them because they were slow to escape.

A single cough creaks through the shuttered street

【Seasonal Word】Cough
The word "shuttered street" really has power, doesn't it? It used to be prosperous, but now it's depopulated or deserted, and the vitality of the whole town is lost. It has lost its glamour, and even though it's daytime, there are few people. Such an image comes to mind instantly. When there is a power word like this in addition to the seasonal word, it is easy to create a scene, but the balance of whether the seasonal word is the protagonist becomes very difficult. However, in this poem, the seasonal word "cough" stands firmly, which is the first skillful point.

Was this poem by Chie-chan? Looking at the past White Prizes, I have chosen Chie-chan's poems almost every time, so I guess I like Chie-chan's poems.

I think the point of this poem is the particle "o" (object marker). When thinking about what is creaking, at first, don't you feel like the shutter is creaking? But when you think about it carefully, it's not that the shutter is creaking, but that (something) is creaking "through" the shuttered street.
If so, perhaps what is creaking is the seasonal word "cough." But a cough is that "cough-cough" sound, so I understand if it resonates as a sound, but it doesn't have a substance that creaks. Then, is the subject who is coughing creaking? Hmm? You end up tilting your head. This is the interesting part of particles, isn't it?

Now, how should you read it in such a case? The correct answer is that you can read it however you like, haha.
Whether you take it as the shutter creaking, or think that the cough echoes against the shutter and sounds like it's creaking, or even think that the body of the person coughing is creaking, it is all up to the reader.
A poem that leaves room for various readings like this is amazing.
By the way, my reading was that since it's a deserted shopping street with shutters down, a single cough echoes louder than I think, and the sound of the shutter creaking in the wind or something is overlaid on it.
Thank you for the wonderful haiku.

Winter day, a couple touching the Jizo statue

【Seasonal Word】Winter day
Now, the last one is this poem. Kyodai Koro-chan, huh? I end up choosing his poems often too, haha.
Well, I like them, so it can't be helped.

Now, this poem ends with the cutting word "kana." This cutting word "kana" has a function like "...indeed (lingering tone)," so it is basically used at the end of a poem. The subject is impressed by the appearance of the couple.

When I hear "winter day" and "Jizo," I remember the old tale of the Kasa Jizo (Straw Hat Jizo). It's the story where a kind-hearted old couple puts straw hats on the Jizo statues because they must be cold, and the Jizo statues come to thank them.
I think that is probably at the base of the image of this poem. It is only written that a couple touches the Jizo, but I think it has a double image like a honkadori (allusive variation).
The couple gently touching the Jizo is surely touching it thinking that the Jizo must be cold.

Jizo is the most familiar existence to the common people, to the extent that it is told in old tales. I hear that until Maitreya Bodhisattva appears, he is a Bodhisattva who remains in this world full of suffering to save all living beings. It is natural that he is loved.

When people come into contact with Jizo, the feeling of gratitude naturally wells up in their hearts.
On a cold winter day, the hands of the couple touching the Jizo must be soft and warm.
Thank you for the wonderful poem full of compassion.

In closing

This time, as one of the judges, I was able to be involved in the Everyone's Haiku Tournament, and I was able to enjoy appreciating many poems composed with various ideas.
In Min-Hai, haiku-like poems are allowed, but my criteria for selection is based on the premise that the haiku follows the basics of haiku, which is having a seasonal word and a fixed form. That hasn't changed in this tournament either. In that sense, there were poems I had to let go of with tears in my eyes. Well, I'm sure others will choose those poems.
There are many people, and there are many ways of looking at things. That is also the charm of this tournament. Appreciations different from my own are, of course, okay! I am happy that I was able to talk with everyone through the same culture of haiku like this.

Congratulations to those who were selected for each prize!