Welcome to the March 2016 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal.
This issue showcases small poems by and about women. March 8 is International Women's Day and we write in celebration of women and girls.
You will notice the way certain themes and references appear in more than one haiku, like threads connecting women to one another.
Poems have been received from Brazil, Canada, Denmark, England, Poland, Romania, and The United States.
cherry blossoms —
a daughter tries on her mother's
wedding dress
- Ana Drobot
November evening
I unbraid in front of the mirror
the moon's shine
- Anna Mazurkiewicz
the soles
of her work boots
cherry petals
- Anne Burgevin
all eyes
following the brides
a swallowtail
- Anne Burgevin
first anniversary
adding touches
to grandma's recipes
- Barbara Tate
rocking chair
grandma's metronome
toc tic toc
- Barbara Tate
gnarled fingers
her cello sold long ago
she can't hear the crows
- Carole Johnston
I'm still that girl
who scandalized my mother
barefoot in rain
- Carole Johnston
my daughter
we smile when she dances . . .
wild honey
- Carole Johnston
mum do you colour
your hair to look more
like me, asks daughter
- Caroline Skanne
childhood music box
now my daughter
sings for me
- Caroline Skanne
porcelain doll
putting a broken childhood
back together
- Caroline Skanne
first blossoms
her laughter startles
the calf
- Chandler Hennessy Scott-Smith
day moon
(dis)appearing
sister's thin face
- Debbie Strange
first chemo
a yellow leaf caught
in her hair
- Debbie Strange
old books the oddments of my past lives
- Debbie Strange
the scent of jasmine
curls around me
a breath so soft
- Donna DiCostanzo
her voice bigger than she is
Grandmama calls the cows home
winter dusk
- Ferris Gilli
familiar words . . .
my daughter helps her daughter
light the Hanukkah candles
- Ferris Gilli
Mama's recipe . . .
all the times I've held this card
just to touch the writing
- Ferris Gilli
I wear two watches
for memories
and practicality
- Gabrielle Vehar
when I am home
I am
night-clad
- Gabrielle Vehar
International Women's Day —
he rolls his eyes
like a rattled doll
- Helen Buckingham
(originally appeared in Presence 49)
she waits for news . . .
the scrawl of twigs
in the gunmetal sky
- Jo Balistreri
the click of bamboo
in the wind . . .
grandma's rosary
- Jo Balistreri
at her easel the sea's changing face
- Jo Balistreri
green new leaf fits
her hand perfectly — the future
waits in this girl's palm
- Joan McNerney
sisters . . .
another spat
to forgive
- Joann Grisetti
the tug
a child sent out to rake
"come too, mommy"
- Joann Grisetti
tough love
closing the door
on his lies
- Joann Grisetti
tall grass
gone to seed
her friendship
- Joanna M. Weston
toffee apple
with sprinkles —
my lipstick
- Joanna M. Weston
scudding along with the clouds my mind adrift again
- Julie Bloss Kelsey
trying to discern
this phase of my life
— daytime moon
- Julie Bloss Kelsey
my baby doll
in my daughter's arms . . .
my baby dolls
- Julie Bloss Kelsey
empty desk . . .
office light dim
without her
- Karen O'Leary
Egyptian hands
to soothe she taught me
baby bellydance
- Kath Abela Wilson
family photos
of mom before I was born
flowery hat
- Kath Abela Wilson
butterfly pajamas
chosen for this
her last night
- Kath Abela Wilson
orphanage room —
children call me:
mom!
- Lavana Kray
I said
when we have kids
I need to live near my mother
- Leah Grady Sayvetz
picking flowers
on the beach
shells
- Linda Keeler
two together
wherever
whenever
- Linda Keeler
scattered leaves
this time she'll dance
by herself
- Lovette Carter
still waters
a child pretends to
feed her baby
- Lovette Carter
talking too much
she makes me blush
reminder of myself
- Margaret Dennis
mother sews a kite
onto my little apron —
blue sky
- Maria Tirenescu
wide-eyed pansies
everywhere little girls worshipping
big girls
- Marianne Paul
twin sisters
the one who gave birth
to the moon
- Marianne Paul
my euphonium
cradled in my arms
deep breath deep sound
- Marty Blue Waters
motherhood
my daughter finds comfort
rubbing my belly
- Mary Hohlman
early spring
she finally learns
to ride her bike
- Mary Hohlman
full moon
the shadow of her breasts
on the silk curtains
- Mary Hohlman
barren lilac . . .
a silence I once
knew
- Mary Kendall
the doubts you had
when I married your son . . .
broken pearls
- Mary Kendall
each year
a pressing appointment . . .
mammogram
- Mary Kendall
my west coast cousin
we share poems
as if we lived next door
- Nancy Osborn
spring arrives
my sister and I
buy new sandals
- Nancy Osborn
the small box
holds my Brownie pin
and memories of an eight year old
- Nancy Osborn
vining branches
weaving thoughts of my mother . . .
wisteria tree
- Pat Geyer
sing at dawn sing at dusk when women were birds
- Pat Geyer
weeping on the bed
distraught
no ring
- Paula Culver
I walk in late winter:
sunset gilds the windows
wind dusts the bricks
- Phoebe Lakin
one tear
she yields to the term
terminal
- Phyllis Lee
yo! hey! what's up?
how she used to answer
the phone
- Phyllis Lee
another blizzard
when will
my winter end?
- Rachel Sutcliffe
memory box
all the roles
I've played
- Rachel Sutcliffe
old photograph
I wonder which girl
is my mother
- Rosa Clement
apple tree in bloom
my mother's aged bones
rest for a while
- Rosa Clement
just married
she shakes rain drops
from her jacket
- Rosa Clement
baking two pies
at once —
I plan to share
- Sara Robbins
I carry firewood —
my Russian grandmother
had the same big arms
- Sara Robbins
Laurie's laugh is magical
like a bell
in a long conversation
- Sheila Dean
new widow's lips
set in a thin line —
winter horizon
- Theresa A. Cancro
restringing
my mother's pearls —
light snowfall
- Theresa A. Cancro
family scrapbook —
great-grandma at the edge
of a photo
- Theresa A. Cancro
she asks
for wind chimes
her 80th birthday
- Tricia Knoll
silent night rain
mother's voice still fills
the empty room
- Vibeke Laier
forgotten adventures
my childhood in a
basket of toys
- Vibeke Laier
lime trees in bloom —
on watch at the window
girl and moon
- Virginia Popescu
since my last birthday bigger and noisier dreams
- Zee Zahava
in another time zone my mother also washes her hair
- Zee Zahava
my aging hands more beautiful right now
- Zee Zahava
