Welcome to the December 2021 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal.
The theme this month is night.
Contributing poets are from Argentina, Australia, Brazil, Canada, Denmark, Ecuador, Ghana, India, Ireland, Italy, Malaysia, New Zealand, Pakistan, Poland, Romania, Singapore, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, and the United States
torn net . . .
a mosquito takes half
of my night
Adjei Agyei-Baah
asleep
on the lawn
under venus
ai li
dream of a song
that devours itself
letter-by-letter nightly
Alan Bern
silent night
the high street strung
with last year’s stars
Alan Peat
35 light-years wide the Pleiades picks out my torch
Alan Summers
stars
I wish I were
free to fall
Alexis Rotella
foggy night
I draw the moon
on the train’s window
Ana Drobot
night scribbling
waiting for my baby
to sleep
Angela Giordano
rainy night
the rhythmic drip
of the faucet
Angiola Inglese
in the dark
remembering to replace
the porch light
Barbara Sabol
sleeper seats
brushed velvet
in the long blue night
Barrie Levine
you come and go
as you please . . .
fickle moon
Bill Waters
atop leafless trees
staring into the night
a parliament of owls
Blue Waters
a mouthful
of chocolate cake
longest night
Brad Bennett
crossword puzzles
and ice-cream wrappers
insomniac
Bryan Cook
finals week
the all-nighter
of crickets
Bryan Rickert
another cold night
echoing sound of wind chimes
up and down the street
C. Robin Janning
midnight
Deimos and Phobos
encircle
C.R. Harper
lights out
on the night train
melancholy moon
Carol Judkins
barking at
the hooligan moon
rebel dog
Carole Johnston
city blackout
we map our favorite
constellations
Carole MacRury
howling wind
a child sings
herself to sleep
Caroline Skanne
chill March night
the shrill whistle
of the teapot
Charles Trumbull
jump shots
on a broken hoop . . .
late night drizzle
Chen-ou Liu
footsteps
wooden clogs
night market
Christina Chin
late night
my cat and I prowl
for intruders
Christina Sng
clouds in a glass of beer one-night stand
Christine L. Villa
the night hours
when fever peaks
and breaks
Claire Vogel Camargo
moonlight
between shores a swan
ripples the silence
Dan Iulian
moonless night
a cat’s shadow
lost in fog
Daniela Misso
moonlight glints
on a trace of silver
a snail’s journey
Deborah Burke Henderson
as the sun sets I rest
Edna S. Brown
winter solitude
the comfort of tiny stars
on a dark night
Eufemia Griffo
night train
the moon travels
without a ticket
Florin C. Ciobica
in the earth’s shadow Buddha’s moon
Geethanjali Rajan
night chill
counting the holes
in my socks
Hifsa Ashraf
in college i roomed
with a young astronomer
impatient for night
Jack Goldman
autumn moon
that first bite
of bean paste
Jackie Chou
fingers
tracing the dipper
one large one small
Janice Doppler
bedtime stories
deep in closet shadows
the bogeyman waits
Jay Friedenberg
that summer night
on the lakeshore
counting shooting stars
Jill Lange
sleepless sunday night
garbage trucks compete
with street sweepers
Jim Mazza
the owl’s wings a midnight ostinato
Jo Balistreri
three a.m.
summer and winter
I wake to darkness
Joan Leotta
you and I
so much to say
the night rain
Joanna Ashwell
moonless night
father and son converse
in monosyllables
Joe Sebastian
our yard’s sundial
several hours off
in moonlight
John J. Dunphy
moonless night
walking the trail
I stumble over a root
Jorge Giallorenzi
a winged box kite:
the night his soul
flew free . . .
Julie Bloss Kelsey
unwrapping
the night sky
Milky Way
Karen Harvey
midnight bloom viewing
we invite the neighbors
to a pajama party
Kath Abela Wilson
I don’t need a lamp
tonight’s moon reveals my pen
moving on the page
Katya Sabaroff Taylor
new moon
a long night alone
in the guest room
Kristen Lindquist
night . . .
owls waiting their turn
to hoot at enemies
Lakshmi Iyer
sleepless grandma weaves a long story into my scarf
Laughing waters
recurring dream
again i don’t
save anyone
Laurinda Lind
this indigo night
I dig into
another crime novel
Lorraine Padden
autumn night
only the moon’s smile
at the window
Lucia Cardillo
rooftop shenanigans
keeping me awake
neighborhood possums
Madhuri Pillai
midnight blue mascara on his shirt
Margaret Walker
fado music
permeates the air
mournful moon
Marilyn Fleming
midnight stroll
my feet scattering
starlight
Marilyn Humbert
late night plaza
a red-and-white suit
on the empty throne
Mark Miller
lonely night
warming herself up
by the kettle
Marta Chocilowska
night flight
the toddler’s effort to touch
the stars
Maya Daneva
in the darkness our candle reveals the soft rain
Michael Flanagan
tipple at sundown
darkness creeping up
the tilted glass
Michael Gallagher
last train
to the airport
red-eye flight
Michael G. Smith
nocturnal weather
cloudy with a chance of stars
frogs sing about sex
Mimi Foyle
campfire
a few sparks
in Ursa Major
Mirela Brailean
midnight phantom
beside the bed —
luminescent moth
Nancy Shires
winter chill
the drag of his slippers
into the night
Neena Singh
twilight
a fading constellation
of hot air balloons
Pat Davis
ball lightning
stitching the black night blue . . .
a smell of sulphur
Paul Beech
odes to the moon
crumpled paper
fills the floor
Pris Campbell
night walk . . .
my shifty shadow
sole companion
Richard L. Matta
late night
I let the spider sleep
in the bathroom
Rosa Clement
binoculars:
earth’s shadow on the moon
trembling
Ruth Yarrow
before sunrise
your side of the bed
still cold
Sherry Grant
night in Yosemite stars elbow each other for room in the summer sky
Sue Norvell
chicken pox explosion
ten itchy girls
at a sleepover party
Teresa Bakota Yatsko
gibbous moon
a new
old-age spot
Theresa A. Cancro
my late wife knew the
constellations but now
night skies are only stars
Tina Wright
sleeping alone my inner night light
Tom Clausen
midnight sky
we connect the stars
to form our initials
Valentina Ranaldi-Adams
half moon
the silence of
a lost letter
Vibeke Laier
full moon
illuminates the garden
yesterday’s laundry
Wieslaw Karlinski
awakened in the night
by his snoring . . .
thankful he is alive
Wilda Morris
night falls early
all dressed up
nowhere to go
Yvonne Fisher
nearly dawn
this old house belches
and goes back to sleep
Zee Zahava
Wednesday, December 1, 2021
night haiku — from sunset to sunrise
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