The annual Haiku Hike in Tucson, Arizona, presented by the Downtown Tucson Partnership and the University of Arizona Poetry Center, was first held in 2019. The event features a haiku competition open to the public that attracts over 1,000 entries. Winning haiku are displayed throughout the spring season on acrylic signs in planters in Downtown Tucson with a map of the locations to encourage visitors to browse the poetry.
Guidelines1
Eligibility: The competition is free and open to all. Past winners from the most recent competition are not eligible to win this year, but winners from earlier years may participate again.
Submission rules: The submission window is typically open from mid–January to early February. Each participant may submit one entry that includes up to three original haiku. Submissions are final.
Format: Only haiku following the 5-7-5 syllable count format will be considered. Note that Haiku Hike follows the Academy of American Poets definition of haiku and provides a link to the Academy’s article on haiku: “A traditional Japanese haiku is a three-line poem with seventeen syllables, written in a 5/7/5 syllable count. Often focusing on images from nature, haiku emphasizes simplicity, intensity, and directness of expression.”
Adjudication: A contest judge/selector is chosen by the sponsoring organizations for each contest.
Announcement of winners: Twenty winning poems are selected in the competition and are showcased on downtown signage, online, and in the media in alignment with the first day of spring.
7th Annual Haiku Hike, 2026
| Selector | Paola Valenzuela, University of Arizona Poetry Center | |
| Contest theme | Connection | |
| Number of submissions | 1,606 haiku (1,325 from Tucson) representing 35 states and 29 countries | |
| Winning Haiku (20) | Lisa Periale Martin | Oops! I’m late for work— the snow moon, dressed in pink clouds was calling my name |
| Dara Yen Elerath | Touching the pale scars across her now empty chest: snow on rose petals | |
| Matthew Stuckey | Ocotillo blooms lipstick red under blue sky Who’s she waiting for? | |
| Veronica Contreras | Fonzo Contreras walked in black boots of leather in the hot desert For my late brother | |
| Clara Luna | Mom shared, I absorbed. Nana’s favorite dichos echo in my soul. | |
| Amber Anderson | The air you breathe in These recycled molecules Sustained life before | |
| Tré | early morning trail tears escape as i exchange yawns with a raven | |
| Jill Coyle | Spiny lizard clings to carved stones, recognizes itself in old lines | |
| Louden Louden | He sang to himself In the park near the oak tree Caught his eye—he smiled | |
| Marian Araujo | Mis niños bellos son mi lugar seguro en momentos dark | |
| Jude King | mycelium web entwining us all beneath the surface of self | |
| Kevin Sanchez | I am this desert cempasúchil caído Esperándote | |
| Alyssa Charlow | One body, three hearts A mother carrying twins— Yikes, yay, let us pray! | |
| Claire Christine Sargenti | After the sun sets all the stars look down on us and make their wishes | |
| Kelly Schnaps | la cucaracha wills to live despite all odds we might be the same | |
| Gordon Brown | late summer evening the wind pushing your kayak right up against mine | |
| Tom Stanley | Sunlit streetcar hums, strangers trade shade and stories, we arrive as one | |
| Annais Romero | At my tia’s house Playing Roblox with cousins Exploring places | |
| Brendan Tinoco | our boots crunch, then pause. the stream carves the earth below. a deep breath—a kiss | |
| Audrey Kanekoa-Madrid | Bloodline intertwined Ancestor perseverance World map in my veins |
6th Annual Haiku Hike, 2025
| Selector | TC Tolbert, former Tucson Poet Laureate | |
| Contest theme | Belonging | |
| Number of submissions | 1,954 haiku (1,1,87 from Tucson) representing 34 states and 31 countries | |
| Winning Haiku (20) | Kim Fernandez | Migrant to Green Card, my soul lives in both places belonging to none. |
| Rachel White | The broken bucket —blue enamel, rusted through— is a flower pot | |
| Deborah Barbour Lundy | among these golden poppies and Apache tears grandmother’s ashes | |
| Mel Goldberg | a warm evening I sleep on my patio my four dogs join me | |
| Lynda Zwinger | sacred xocoatl— still surprised to find itself in the candy aisle | |
| Linda Doughty | Tamarisk, Stinknet, Curses! Invasive species! Rooted, just like me. | |
| Melisa (Miel) Bohlman (Ramos) | para entender Cuk Ṣon, tienes que ir al nopal entre ti | |
| Jeffrey Ferrara | graves overlooking a farm in the family for generations | |
| Oscar Mancinas | why not ask the sun rising, gliding carefree all day, to see its papers? | |
| Leslie Garcia Montijo | I can’t touch your hand, but I still see you in me, even in my toes | |
| Laura Kepner-Adney | clouds above tumble as much a part of myself as i am of them | |
| Valeria Liera | Two worlds in my veins, I’m unsure which one is home both share the same sky | |
| Christopher Martinez | Spring brings dark, wet earth reminding my many selves— I’m home in my skin | |
| Piolo de Guzman | The sky the color of healing bruises, the birds flying together. | |
| Tamara MC | He woke me at four We shared Ramadan’s first meal Texas stars watched close | |
| Tracye May | Saguaro nurse tree to old abandoned building on N. Alvernon | |
| Joshua Gage | neighbor to neighbor the breeze carries the gossip of citrus in bloom | |
| Phil VanDeWiele | The young mockingbirds haven’t grown distrustful yet and share the morning. | |
| Nevaeh Casillas | The flowers bloom shy But soon begin to realize They are hydrangeas | |
| Shauna Jennings | arranged in a square drinking from the stone birdbath four rosy-finches |
5th Annual Haiku Hike, 2024
| Selector | TC Tolbert, former Tucson Poet Laureate | |
| Contest theme | Serenity | |
| Number of submissions | 2,069 haiku (1,385 from Tucson) representing 29 states and 27 countries | |
| Winning Haiku (20) | Alicia Enciso Litschi | The Corn Mothers sing the basin dwellers to sleep, tucked into the stars. |
| slantz | Graft bones take slow hold. Evening walk, the first since—Oh! a great horned owl! | |
| Eb Eberlein | the pussywillow confident of warmth’s return blooming in the snow | |
| Shagufta Mulla | Mammillaria, I kneel to see your pink crowns, forgetting what hurts. | |
| Jami Macarty | Sweetwater Wetlands dawn. Great blue heron shifts from stillness to stillness. | |
| Ronald Zack | Moon blooming flower erupting from the cactus. Enjoy your short life. | |
| Lily Sklar | Little cactus wren Pirouettes on prickly pear As monsoon gathers | |
| Helen Buckingham | lunch in the courtyard cherry blossom obscuring the hands of the clock | |
| S. Serrano | Bougainvilla breeze Mija, esas no huelen But the colors call | |
| Nicki Candelaria | Rest your tiny heart in the lemon tree blossoms. Shimmer for us both. | |
| Lorraine A Padden | opening the door to whatever arises … there’s room on the couch | |
| Alisha Vásquez | Nana and Tata Caminaron está ave Mano a mano. | |
| Jennifer Hernandez | Scent of orange blossom, scarlet hummingbird hovers. I feel you here, Mom. | |
| Myra Stevens | God grant me, it’s like, a prayer of some sort, like, a whisper I think. | |
| Amanda Meeks | To know Life is cyclical, not linear — one way to belong to the Moon. | |
| Jack Trevino | cold cell, lunch—no salt Razor wire, no family, Rec time. Shoot some hoops. | |
| Scott Shields | Lone star suspended between bright fingers of clouds— darkness touching dawn. | |
| Kathy Owen | I’m seventy one My children are all grown up Now stillness fills me | |
| Chen-ou Liu | end of the season eyes closed I see my late wife among rose blossoms | |
| dl mattila | Siri, stop sharing my location for awhile mushroom gathering |
4th Annual Haiku Hike, 2023
| Selector | TC Tolbert, Tucson Poet Laureate | |
| Contest theme | Planting Seeds | |
| Number of submissions | 1,556 haiku (1,114 from Tucson) representing 28 states and 23 countries | |
| Winning Haiku (20) | Dan C. Iulian | chemotherapy— in her garden overall forget-me-not seeds |
| Bridget Magee | a popcorn kernel buried in her gum blossoms into an implant | |
| Lee Tucker | Fat rabbit, it’s fine there’s wild mustard everywhere and the hawk just left | |
| Camila Zazueta | Plants are really strong. They are like Beyonce’s song, “I’m a Survivor.” | |
| Nina Mendoza | secret strawberries for you and me—bitter life sweet for a moment | |
| Devoshruti Mandal | eco-friendly spring in the half plastic bottles dad’s terrace garden | |
| Rachel Srubas | Gloria Haiseman, my fourth grade teacher, thank you. I am still writing. | |
| Cea Murtha-Paradis | Sections crack, settle. In this new space, room for a whole other body. | |
| Sally Hunter | Spent twenty bucks on Wildflower seeds, tossed about. Birds ate good that day. | |
| Mari Herreras | We are made of dirt. Hard and rocky desert dirt. Eager for water. | |
| Valerina Quintana | Devil’s claw—tendrils thin, black and sturdy, good for basket medicine. | |
| Randy Petty | from the darkest day of my existence sprouted my sobriety | |
| Bart Berlin | This day, Dylan said, Winds down. Now in the cholla, A flower. Kiss me. | |
| Kimi Eisele | We sat creekside, green, not knowing love—quick current! —would sweep, swell, grow us | |
| Susan Rodriguez | Oh, tomato seed If I care for you enough Can you be pizza? | |
| Hannah Palmisano | Black-eyed Susan weeps russet seeds take root in the ribcage of an ox | |
| Shelby Scheer | Every local knows the best place for tortillas is your Nana’s house. | |
| Shelli Hall | Soft rain shapes mud walls handmade in the Barrio metal roofs rattle | |
| Wyatt Welch | The sun on our arms unwinds our garden we make love on the way home. | |
| Maksim Blanarovich | I am an outlaw. Cast away from my homelands to grow on my own. |
3rd Annual Haiku Hike, 2022
| Selector | TC Tolbert, Tucson Poet Laureate | |
| Contest theme | Metamorphosis | |
| Number of submissions | 1,056 haiku (635 from Tucson) representing 29 states and 28 countries | |
| Winning Haiku (20) | Steven Alvarez | saguaro brazos stretch to June’s sun: barrio translation: son primos |
| Ramesh Anand | the end of gossip the grasses we sit upon gathering coolness | |
| Carolee Asia | Flycatcher is gone. Skies are blue with ghosts today, Above new stories. | |
| Florin C. Ciobîcă | mayfly nymph she begins to speak about that miscarriage | |
| Isaac Flater | Collect mesquite beans Grind them into fine powder Eat bread in the shade | |
| Nancy Himel | Sunflowers blossom an explosion of yellow where the house once stood | |
| Vladislav Hristov | refugee camp the morning rain turns in holy water | |
| Jonathan Humphrey | Pima basket— learning from the darkness woven through me | |
| Franklin Lane | Went up the mountain Found peace and some clarity Came down the mountain | |
| Araceli Montano | The healing chant sang and mended all things broken against every odd. | |
| Naomi Ortiz | Mom Who sang me to sleep, inquired, “Where, for how long?” Now, I hold her hand. | |
| Alan Peat | sleet becomes snow— a gasoline bomb in the teacher’s hand | |
| Elizabeth Salper | Spring’s mighty bullhorn Wait! favor the alley weed Here, my bare ankle | |
| Audrey Scheere | Having worn two masks What changed inside while inside Something seems brighter | |
| Julie Schwerin | hospice window … willing a cloud into a winged horse | |
| Dan Schwerin | an ally for her coming out cherry blossoms | |
| Monique Soria | Tree, teach me how to let my leaves fly when my world is at its coldest | |
| Tawney Weir | Desert penstemons Nestled midst thorny comrades Sheltering in place | |
| Vicki Wilson | Even the spring sun can make hard asphalt supple if it focuses. | |
| Michele Worthington | in sky above dry wash—vermilion flycatcher resets my life list |
2nd Annual Haiku Hike, 2020/20212
| Selector | TC Tolbert, Tucson Poet Laureate | |
| Contest theme | Living in the Present Moment | |
| Number of submissions | 712 haiku (572 from Tucson) representing 14 states and 8 countries | |
| Winning Haiku (20) | Alvaro Enciso | border love muy hot summer is always here, yes am burning for you |
| Amy Rule | Ant carrying leaf in the shadow of my foot, A cloud passes by | |
| Araceli Montano | Liberation is what it means to feel free. A moment of silence. | |
| Elizabeth Salper | crane fly on wine glass I hear it’s love you’re after spring has such long legs | |
| Eugene Scalercio | Winter A cadre of ants Working no rest clear debris Enmptiness let loose | |
| Henryk Czempiel | sound of a cello for a moment her pale face in the underpass | |
| Hifsa Ashraf | autumn chill the white feather clings to a sewer grate | |
| Isabella Cardenas | A small flower lives Admiring the sky Between the buildings | |
| James Watterson | two Sonoran dogs and a nap with lucid dream— fly over yourself | |
| Mary P. Myers | green spine-tipped branches yellow-blossomed tips vibrate with old hohokam songs | |
| Matthew S. | By the trash can Is a raccoon with its Babies surviving | |
| Melanie Madden | My finger traces the edge of a feathery leaf. Yep, that’s a thorn. | |
| Peter A Sutcliffe | Darkness clouds my mind A glance from my lovers eyes pulls me to the light | |
| Rita Maria Magdaleno | Brittlebush Hierba del caso — tea for a cough; cowboy toothbrush Your big yellow eyes. | |
| Steven Alvarez | down in South Tucson a corrido plays tonight— fingers touch—hold—grip | |
| Sue Colpitts | take a break busy fireflies the stars are breath-taking | |
| Sue Garcia | How long has the breeze blown open the spring curtains and I did not see | |
| Suraja Roychowdhury | Saguaro a small child points upwards | |
| Terri Bacon | midday, workers swarm metal tables, sweet mesquite bees drone—food truck lunch | |
| Vandana Parashar | birdsong I let the voice inside me go unheard |
1st Annual Haiku Hike, 2019
| Selector | TC Tolbert, Tucson Poet Laureate | |
| Contest theme | Life In the City | |
| Number of submissions | 977 haiku (825 from Tucson) representing 12 states and 5 countries | |
| Winning Haiku (20) | Philip Brown | El Presidio Layers of time not of past Sun warmed adobe |
| Eric Carr | A shock of green grows Pushing through the cracked sidewalk Monsoon graffiti | |
| Gerry Connolly | Past the market place, near Tohono O’odham graves, the Rillito flows. | |
| Micaila DeClouette | Post-baseball we buy raspados and sit under Palo Verdes’ shade. | |
| Mark English | dry riverbeds flow rainbow crosswalk marks my path Tucson, meet yourself | |
| Isaac Flater | Bicycle at eve, ’Neath the Old Pueblo’s bridges, Stop—behold the bats. | |
| Rachel Haimowitz | Community is The spines of the prickly pear Not harming the bird. | |
| Robert Hernandez | Mi barrio lindo, Con tus caras morenas, Siento alivio | |
| Wayne Heuple | Pueblo viejo, Land of mananas para Todos los gustos | |
| Clara Luna | Noche y día madreselva del jardín me trae recuerdos. | |
| Lisa Periale Martin | late night dance party confetti spills down Congress monsoon washes clean | |
| Alanna Mejia | Waiting for the buzz Of late-summer cicadas Yellow flowers fall. | |
| Judi Molina | Now the day goes still Letting Tucson catch its breath While the sky burns red | |
| Kevin Orduno | Palo verde dance A lively Tucson tango To the streetcar’s hum | |
| Elizabeth Salper | Night unfurls downtown caress and whoosh of streetcar train whistles and owls | |
| Joel Smith | Monastery doors Open wide for the stranger All us honored guests | |
| Monique Soria | Oil spatters. Heated air wavers. Grandmother twirls the perfect frybread. | |
| Jill Sweeney | orange desert sunrise the streetcar mirrors blue iris in cafe window | |
| William Y. Velez | Saguaros in bloom Cultures meeting culturas Sahuaros en flor | |
| Geri Hooper Wharam | Downtown Tucson walk— My family ghosts abound here. Ether presence now. |
Compiled from information on the Haiku Hike website
Notes
- All information, citations, and winning haiku are from the Haiku Hike website: https://downtowntucson.org/events/haiku-hike and adapted by the Haikupedia Editors. [↩]
- The 2020 Haiku Hike was postponed one year. [↩]