Welcome to the summer 2017 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal.
The theme is a single date . . . all the poems were written on/about May 23, 2017.
Enjoy! And please come back in September when brass bell returns from summer vacation.
Poems have been received from Australia, Brazil, Canada, Croatia, Denmark, Ecuador, England, Ghana, India, Ireland, Italy, Japan, Netherlands, Pakistan, Philippines, Poland, Singapore, the U. K., and the United States
fog —
the train digs
its own tunnel
- Adjei Agyei-Baah
tight on money
the fridge's
funny sounds
- Adrian Bouter
after the rain . . .
the brightness
of pond lilies
- Agnes Eva Savich
steaming rice
for the altar
the dead are here
- ai li
never quite counting
but moving fingers
as if there were numbers
- Alan Bern
weather forecaster lied — no sun today!
- Alan Catlin
only the love songs
the wrong shade of blue
in Manchester city
- Alan Summers
cat and i
what do we have in common
besides silence?
- Amauri Solon Ribeiro
on the balcony
tonight the moon
so round
- Angela Giordano
twilight
the full throated tenor
of a bull frog
- Angelee Deodhar
spring cleaning
another trash bag heads
to Goodwill
- Anna Cates
birthday —
I feel my bones
heavier
- Antonio Magniameli
all day drizzle
an earthworm languishes
in the muck
- Barbara Kaufmann
nap time
the robo calls
keep coming
- Barbara Tate
head in the clouds . . .
without warning
rhododendrons
- Bill Waters
rush hour
outside the bus window
a still kite
- Billy Antonio
a struggle
to keep things in balance
when I am tipping
- C. Robin Janning
grass nicely trimmed
garden in full bloom
sneezing
- Carol Dilworth
grey mist
where grief
slips in
- Caroline Skanne
morning rain
beneath my bedroom window
a wet school child
- Celestine Nudanu
lost in a shuffle
of second-hand music books . . .
thrush answering thrush
- Chen-ou Liu
batgirl in training
her cape
a serious matter
- Christina Martin
spring daydream
my son's stuffed tiger
stares at the sun
- Christina Sng
evening chatter
my puppy listens
to the buzz of a fly
- Christine L. Villa
no fighting conch
on my last day of shelling
high tide
- Claire Vogel Camargo
close to midnight
my muse snoozing
in the next chair
- David J. Kelly
such variety
in the flavors
blueberries
- David Oates
weather vane
a horse leads us
toward home
- Debbie Strange
following the game
from the nosebleed seats
advancing years
- Devin Harrison
wedding anniversary —
the twenty-third day
of the fifth month
- Doris Pascolo
noonday sun
an aged bluejay asleep
on the birdbath
- Dottie Piet
breakfast with kids
no reason to cry
over spilled milk
- Elisa Allo
kindergarten class . . .
flowers and butterflies
in the children's drawings
- Eufemia Griffo
walking in the woods
pointing out interesting things
to an absent friend
- Frank Robinson
crunch
my neck
awakens me
- Gabrielle Vehar
in the lamp's oblique shadows the back of my hand is strange
- Glenn Ingersoll
aprons from three generations
whisper to me
when i cook
- Grace Celeste
having its moment
the orb
of an onion flower
- Hannah Mahoney
black morel . . .
how complicated it is
to survive
- Hifsa Ashraf
when i bend over
and kneel down to plant these days
i say my prayers
- Jack Goldman
café acoustics reaching me the pain in a stranger's voice
- Jane Williams
wilted peonies
the day she doesn't
make the team
- Jennifer Hambrick
today —
the mountain laurel
chooses to open
- Jill Lange
our friendship . . .
the crest and trough
of waves
- Jo Balistreri
just before midnight
pain ebbs . . . slowly moving
toward recovery
- Joan Leotta
at the DMV
praying for our number
to be called
- Joan McNerney
dawn rises
through the kitchen window
insomnia
- Joanna M. Weston
urban demolition
under a powdering of dust
the promise of flowers
- John Hawkhead
garbage truck
my dog hides
in the bathroom
- Julie Bloss Kelsey
mooncake
on the wet ground
carving my birthday wish
- Justice Joseph Prah
Taipei to Shanghai
about the length
of a haiku
- Kath Abela Wilson
rain thunder lightning
a symphony I can hear
when the lights go out
- Katya Sabaroff Taylor
we sort estate papers
the wind
picks up
- kjmunro
sorting
a lifetime collection
of beads & baubles
- Kris Moon
clatter of heels —
in my imagination
swaying hips
- Krzysztof Kokot
hiding behind a tree
I see a chipmunk crack
a nut
- Kumarendra Mallick
spotlight
the sun through
a leaking roof
- Kwaku Feni Adow
the best way to cure sleepwalking
she tells me
is to hang upside down
- Kyle Hemmings
storm clouds
getting closer
my court date
- Laughing waters
so quiet
at the kitchen table
alone this morning
- Linda Keeler
starlight —
all that i sing
starts now
- Lovette Carter
twilight
another day is ending
first star
- Lucia Cardillo
one white
cabbage butterfly
on a daisy
- Lucia Fontana
dinner time —
the bittersweet taste
of ripe apricots
- Maria Laura Valente
deadlines
writing haiku
at midnight
- Marianne Paul
out of her shell —
queen-of-the-night blooms
in the terrarium
- Marietta McGregor
twilight soccer
nudged above the goalie's net
the full moon
- Mark Miller
my first box
of watercolor paints . . .
trembling brush
- Marta Chocilowska
wind in the woods
the conversation
of tawny owls
- Martha Magenta
what a small world
all day and all night
in the same room
- Marty Blue Waters
a glow in the east
black thins to gray shadows
a cardinal calls
- Mike Flanagan
i know we are well
by the way your hair lays curled
against my pillow
- Mimi Foyle
all day I tell
everyone to admire
these roses
- Miriam Sagan
in the dark
hidden whispers of scent . . .
lilacs!
- Nancy Osborn
long summer day
i shut my eyes
and it is dark
- Neha R. Krishna
cold shadow
a sweaty shirt sticks
to my back
- Nina Kovacic (translation by Durda Vukelic Rozic)
that wondrous feeling —
touring the insides
of the Kotzschmar Organ
- Pat Davis
world turtle day . . .
at the garden place i find
a box turtle gift
- Pat Geyer
poppies
my all-time favorite —
tissue paper art
- Paula Culver
amid wild grasses
a lone asparagus
waves
- Peter Ladley
mashed potatoes
for lunch and dinner
my throbbing jaws
- Pris Campbell
busy spider
the tangled web
of my mind
- Rachel Sutcliffe
vanilla ice cream
drools into my hand
noon melts down
- Ron Scully
reading the paper
I share my rocking chair
with a tiny spider
- Rosa Clement
news of refugees
I separate basil seedlings
ripping the roots
- Ruth Yarrow
fogged in
rubbing my toes
on the cat's back
- Sandi Pray
remember it all
write it down
let it go
- Sara Robbins
midday heat the stiffness of a cotton saree
- Shloka Shankar
wrong number
nice to exchange
a friendly word
- Simon Hanson
woman in purple shirt
pointing out tulips —
children clinging to her legs
- Stephen Page
red-headed woodpecker
young man with a camera
makes me notice
- Sue Perlgut
children's giggles
under the stairs —
cat's cradle
- Theresa A. Cancro
meal planning
deciding which night
not to care
- Tia Nicole
pizza for breakfast
my inner child
giggles
- Tiffany Shaw-Diaz
for my mood
the clouds spaced out
just right
- Tom Clausen
more worms
than anticipated
cracked dry soil
- Tricia Knoll
mother's white
and purple irises —
a stranger's yard
- Valentina Ranaldi-Adams
spring rain
a flower opens for
a butterfly
- Vibeke Laier
as you fly west
i walk
into the rising sun
- Zee Zahava
rain —
drop after drop the lake
steadily overflowing the banks
- Zuzanna Truchlewska