Friday, December 1, 2017

haiku about the ways we experienced November 18, 2017

Welcome to the December 2017 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal.

The theme is a single date . . .   all the poems were written on November 18, 2017

Poems have been received from Australia, Brazil, Canada, China, Croatia, Denmark, Ecuador, England, Ghana, India, Ireland, Italy, Pakistan, Poland, Singapore, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, and the United States

noon heat
two lizards
in a battle of tails
    - Adjei Agyei-Baah

long-distance call
the fog outside
    - Adrian Bouter

i am lonely today
my breath
my friend
    - ai li

two crows hop
one up a driveway
the other in the road
    - Alan Bern

late in the year . . .
I buy bright padlocks
for a backpack
    - Alan Summers

seeking shelter
the others
enjoy the rain
    - Almila Dukel

family gathering
there is one missing
around the table
    - Amauri Solon

watery eyes
lackluster leaves
tumble in the wind
    - Amy Losak

minted tea
my neighbour describes
his trip to Morocco
    - Andy McLellan

shorter day —
between bare branches
the first star
    - Angela Giordano

plaid blanket on the beach —
onion cake
and tangerines
    - Angiola Inglese

Saturday morning
cleaning house
I startle a mouse
    - Ann Christine Tabaka

happy angry goofy scary pumpkins in a row
    - Anne Elise Burgevin

meditation studio  . . .
the scent of basil
surrounds me
    - Archana Kapoor Nagpal

tornado warning
submitting poetry before
the electricity goes out
    - Barbara Tate

an afternoon
of windy rain
— and a migraine
    - Bill Waters

flu season
I kiss you good night
on your forehead
    - Brad Bennett

watching for snakes
finding instead two fat toads
in the hemlocks
    - C. Robin Janning

a standoff between
rain and snow
my mind as muddled
    - Carol Dilworth

daughter searches
for a unicorn
on ebay
    - Caroline Skanne

patches of fog
the things I remember
to forget
    - Chen-ou Liu

a painting day
how many colours
in orange
    - Christina Martin

grocery bags
the heaviness
of my heart
    - Christina Sng

waking thought:
two weeks ago
choosing dad's casket
    - Claire Vogel Camargo

dinner party
all the broken pottery
swept together
    - C.R. Harper

another night
without you
the unlit wick
    - Dan Schwerin

hunger moon
my shadow lingers
on the path
    - David He

breakfast with the birds
we watch each other
eat our oatmeal
    - David J. Kelly

ice-laden trees
a thousand brass bells
tinkle your name
    - Debbie Strange

new moon —
my bitter experience
left inside that suitcase
    - Doris Pascolo

way back home
the same clouds
as yesterday
    - Eufemia Griffo

someone with an artist's eye
must have scattered these leaves
on the brookside walk
    - Frank Robinson

reading the usual bad news
cat on my shoulder
    - Glenn Ingersoll

for a moment
her birthday candles
in the dark
    - Hannah Mahoney

hazy moon . . .
the fog reshapes
a street lamp
    - Hifsa Ashraf

uncertain haiku
discussed with my editor
let's just forget it
    - Jack Goldman

a spider crack
in the camera lens
shifting scenes
    - Jan Benson

trivial pursuit —
they say our team
gets all the easy ones
    - Jill Lange

lace curtains
sift moonlight . . .
mother makes pumpkin pie
    - Jo Balistreri

waiting at the clinic to hear my name
    - Joan McNerney

cutting his hair
in the kitchen —
how many years?
    - Joanna M. Weston

London gloom
my commuter train
enters the underworld
    - John Hawkhead

dusting off
the world atlas . . .
one perfect sycamore leaf
    - Julie Warther

haiku workshop
I act out an apple
doing a pirouette
    - Kath Abela Wilson

at the library
the boy helps his tiny sister
choose a book
    - Kathy Kramer

suddenly night comes
I have to turn on the light
to do the crossword
    - Katya Sabaroff Taylor

minus twenty
jump-starting the old car
with the old truck
    - kjmunro

middle of November
the first Christmas card
from far away
    - Lucia Cardillo

little linden
increasingly bare
don't you feel cold?
    -Lucia Fontana

cabbage butterflies
flicker past
    - Madhuri Pillai

after nap time —
angel food cake
and fairy tales
    - Maria Laura Valente

new moon —
deer hunters
at crack of dawn
    - Marilyn Fleming

a greeting card
from the one who got away . . .
wind-blown leaves
    - Marion Alice Poirier

among falling leaves la petite mort
    - Mark E. Brager

father's memory . . .
looking at the
distant stars
    - Marta Chocilowska

beautiful morning
the postman and the milkman
whistle the same tune
    - Martha Magenta

tall recycling bags
so much of my life
toss, toss
    - Marty Blue Waters

the soft light of dawn
moves from window to desk . . .
I must sit very still
    - Michael Flanagan

sun soaking my skin
I sit outside the kitchen
just enjoying life
    - Mimi Foyle

waiting . . .
among raindrops
his steps
    - Nina Kovacic  (translated by Durda Vukelic Rozic)

listening to Elvis
my body remembers
the fifties
    - Pat Davis

bright sunlight . . .
the beauty
of dust motes
    - Phyllis Lee

I stop surf gazing
to type this haiku
    - Pris Campbell

old scarecrow
losing himself
in the wind
    - Rachel Sutcliffe

silver anniversary
sky of brushed pewter
I leave for you
    - Ron Scully

mirrored windows
all sky and drifting cloud
    - Simon Hanson

we fall silent
to listen to it . . .
November wind
    - Sanjuktaa Asopa

out for breakfast
my cousin and I
spill laughter on our pancakes
    - Sue Norvell

catching up . . .
teaspoons clink
in unison
    - Theresa A. Cancro

untouched placemats
a trail of crumbs
around the tv
    - Tia Haynes

good hair
on a rainy day
    - Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

long lane
the jogger
short of breath
    - Tim Gardiner

all day rain only a sparrow's call
    - Vibeke Laier

washing yesterday's dishes
thinking about
    - Zee Zahava

falling leaves
among Japanese signs
my haiku
    - Zuza Truchlewska