Sijo Writing Resources
- how to write sijo
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Other Sijo Competitions:

Sejong Writing Competition

WISIJO competition

 

International Sijo -
past competition results

2026 Sejong International Sijo Competition

Winners | Judges | Winning Entries

Untitled

Each time I see my parents I feel the joy, yet I am sad
I notice the signs of aging that cannot be hidden at all
Now I show them how phones work, just as they once showed me the world

Why the Caged Bird Actually Sings

The caged bird does not sing in hopes its song will shatter steel bars.
The caged bird sings because true passion replenishes the soul.
Though the cage still holds its body, the mind has already flown.

The Paradox of We

It’s possible that we is the sweetest word in the language—
any language—signifier, holder of love, family, friends.
As a weapon, turning others to they, we can destroy what’s whole.

Fermata

In his youth, Dad played guitar;
But family needs stability.
Dreams of music, he delayed;
His guitar, he kept for old age.
Arthritis twists his fingers now;
He has time but cannot play.

Stubbornness in the Forest

The maple tree has shed its copper coat upon the frozen grass.
One stubborn leaf still grips the heights, defying the winter’s first breath.
It finally falls not in defeat, but to dance with the waiting wind.

A TROPHY

My mother cried like thunder; she fought the flesh and the spirit.
Her grit bent beneath the pain, yet held — she pushed until dawn broke.
At first light, she raised me forward; the room breathed, and named me Joy.

Two Views

Baby bird on sizzling sidewalk, beak open, there is no shade.
I have seen much, know I cannot save it, walk on, resigned.
Young woman on a bicycle stops. She will try anyway.

Untitled

Shoes of leather, suede, canvas, wrinkled, smooth, or dimpled skin
Perfect pairs side-by-side looking like long-married couples
Like lovers they walk together in fields and parks, and streets.

Untitled

His toothpaste is crushed in the middle; hers is rolled tight as a scroll.
Forty years, one sink, one mirror; small wars over the missing cap.
Yet the cap sits in her pocket; she likes him searching.

The Queen of Gyeongbokgung

In silk hanbok, she walks
the granite courts of her palace.
Her proud gaze claims grand pavilions
and sky-sweeping eaves.
Her sleeve's tag reads: “Return by dusk”.
For today alone, she is queen.

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