Thursday, September 1, 2016

kitchen haiku


Welcome to the September 2016 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal.

This month's theme is Kitchen Haiku.

Contributors are from: Australia, Brazil, Canada, Croatia, Denmark, England, Ghana, India, Ireland, Nigeria, Philippines, Poland, Singapore,
Sri Lanka, Tunisia, Turkey, U.K., Ukraine, and the United States



kitchen cleaning
the sudden eruption
of spiderlings
    - Adjei Agyei-Baah

kiss me again by the saucers
    - Alan Bern

summer sun . . .
a big tomato
in the empty sink
    - Ali Znaidi

woodpecker pecks
on the kitchen windowpane —
no more crumbs on the sill
    - Amauri Solon

baker's yeast —
from the kitchen window
a full risen moon
    - Angelee Deodhar

double salt
I forgot
what he said last
    - Aparna Pathak

morning alarm . . .
clink of mother's bangles
as she chops onions
    - Archana Kapoor Nagpal

thanksgiving
my son makes it to
the big table
    - Barbara Tate

sunlight on the counter —
one yellow banana
in a green ceramic bowl
    - Bill Waters

first date the silence of spoon and fork
    - Billy Antonio

wind chimes . . .
tossing bell peppers
into the salad
    - Brad Bennett

searching online for
old-fashioned cannisters —
a rooster crows
    - Brenda Roberts

kitchen
it was my mother's room
her hands
    - C. Robin Janning

kitchen drawer
the lacquered chopsticks
i can't use
    - Caroline Skanne

my hopes deflated
the cake
flat again
    - Christina Sng

morning's angry face buttering toast
    - David J. Kelly

under the sink
so many neglected
appliances
    - David Oates

on my napkin
the crumbs
of a new poem
    - Debbi Antebi

fingerprints
on yellowed recipes
she is here, still
    - Debbie Strange

empty nest
no more cheetos
on the pantry shelf
    - Dottie Piet

cardboard shelter
the homeless man whistles over
a boiling pot
    - Emmanuel Jessie Kalusian

all moved in
nothing in the kitchen
where it used to be
    - Ferris Gilli

a healthy dinner —
eating my salad
reading my poems
    - Frank Robinson

sweeping broken bowl into cracked dustpan
    - Glenn Ingersoll

dirty dishes —
the past two weeks
waterless
    - Goran Gatalica

the space inside
the yellow pepper
my inner life
    - Hannah Mahoney

kitchen garden
window~ 
garlic two ways
    - Helen Buckingham

skillet cornbread
crumbled into buttermilk
first frost
    - Jan Benson

sterilizing
mason jars . . .
mom's peaches this winter
    - Jo Balistreri

my shelf has room for
two serving plates, five bowls
and one square of sun
    - Joan McNerney

together —
he washes
she dries
    - Joanna M. Weston

kitchen skylight
I decide to make
mooncakes
    - Kath Abela Wilson

crossword puzzle time
on Sunday morning table
coffee, sharp pencil
    - Katya Sabaroff Taylor

winter morning —
mist of her breath fills
the tea cup
    - Kumarendra Mallick

kitchen junk drawer archeological dig
    - Lance Robertson

I could never
convince my mother
that dishes dry by themselves
    - Madeleine Cohen Oakley

old wok
the smooth patina
of its swollen belly
    - Madhuri Pillai

mashed potatoes
all those words
I wish I said
    - Malintha Perera

last year's wishbone
still on the windowsill
with Mother's wedding ring
    - Margaret Chula

natural organic local
judgment
in my soup
    - Margaret Jones

ticking clocks —
not allowed to speak
at meal time
    - Marianne Paul

gathering dusk . . .
the last sip
of pine-needle tea
    - Mark E. Brager

coffee cream on the kitchen table cat licks its whiskers
    - Marta Chocilowska

red wine punch
family reunion
round one
    - Martha Magenta

disconnected stove
no more cooking
flowers everywhere
    - Marty Blue Waters

snow squall . . .
dancing in the kitchen
to keep warm
    - Mary Kendall

nothing as mysterious as someone else's kitchen
    - Miriam Sagan

mulled wine
sweet smell of cinnamon
leaves through the kitchen chimney
    - Nada Jacmenica 

the diswasher
has its own
mantra meditation
    - Nicholas Klacsanzky

chilly morning
three small suns sizzling
in a frying pan
    - Nina Kovacic (translated by Durda Vukelic Rozic)

then i bought a new teacup now i have a cuppa dust
    - Pat Geyer

cooking brussels sprouts
knowing
you won't be home
    - Phyllis Lee

my father's blue robe . . .
just the two of us gobbling
fried green tomatoes
    - Pris Campbell

dinner for one
still cooking
your favourite meals
    - Rachel Sutcliffe

kitchen mirror
she checks her lipstick
on a pan lid
    - Rosa Clement

spring pantry
grasping the last apple
my fingers ooze in
    - Ruth Yarrow

firing up
the old wood stove
best bread ever
    - Simon Hanson

every morning
that perfect white orchid
with coffee
    - Sondra Byrnes

morning coffee —
pigeon ripping petals off
kitchen sill bluebells
    - Stephen Page

the hem of my dress
taking the sweat from my brow
canning fresh snap peas
    - Susan Lang

23rd anniversary —
thawing frozen
blueberries
    - Theresa A. Cancro

evening mist again I forget the boiling pasta
    - Tim Gardiner

autumn chill —
some crickets seek asylum
in the kitchen
    - Tomislav Maretić

kitchen table dust
the screen door open
to the east wind
    - Tricia Knoll

evening light rain
i open the kitchen door
for the cats
    - Vibeke Laier

sitting in the kitchen
sad
for the world
    - Yvonne Fisher

heating leftovers friday night jazz plays on the radio
    - Zee Zahava