Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Haiku by and About Women

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
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
    - 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:
    - Lavana Kray

I said
when we have kids
I need to live near my mother
    - Leah Grady Sayvetz

picking flowers
on the beach
    - Linda Keeler

two together
    - 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

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
    - Mary Kendall

the doubts you had
when I married your son . . .
broken pearls
    - Mary Kendall

each year
a pressing appointment . . .
    - 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
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
    - 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

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