one-line haiku

Welcome to the November 2022 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal.

This month there is no particular theme. Each poem is just one line long . . . revealing meaning and depth in a deceptively simple form.


Contributing poets are from Australia, Canada, China, Denmark, Ecuador, India, Ireland, Italy, Malaysia, Malta, Pakistan, Poland, Romania, Singapore, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, the United States, Wales.


october mist some late apples for pie
    ai li

autumn memory my red bobber on grandpa’s pond
    Al Gallia

crescent moon apostrophizes an old fir
    Alan Bern

sunset merging stones and crows
    Alan Peat

a crow completes the evening without its Bashō
    Alan Summers

to the strawberry patch I follow my nose
    Alexis Rotella

dream analysis of my blood test results
    Ana Drobot

flat clouds a hedgehog closed in a ball
    Angela Giordano

late-season asters bloom every reason to live
    Barbara Kaufmann

discovering her secret hidden drawer
    Barbara Sabol

apology letter written with disappearing ink
    Barbara Sayre

pulling sheets off the line parting clouds
    Barrie Levine

she says relax relax as mammogram machine squeezes squeezes
    Blue Waters

fresh-mown grass fade to skunk
    Brad Bennett

final mow the field mice head into the barn
    Bryan D. Cook

making my poem his poem over-editor
    Bryan Rickert

putting everything in order I can’t find a thing
    C. Robin Janning

between playground and cemetery wild roses
    Carole MacRury

night rain rushing night train    
    Charles Trumbull

lockdown world tour with a globe
    Chen Xiaoou

snow squalls as usual the silence after our squabble
    Chen-ou Liu

digging bitter gentian grandma tells me why
    Christina Chin

still faster than me      my elderly cat
    Christina Sng

one parking space     between     two monster trucks
    Christine Wenk-Harrison

playing Parcheesi just liking the word
    Claire Vogel Camargo

deep breath the lights have changed
    C.R. Harper

on the edge of enchantment autumn fog
    Debbie Strange

apple seeds an orchard in each one
    Deborah Burke Henderson

my life so far unfolding exquisite scars
    Elena Malec

reminding me of a deadline owl’s hoot
    Florin C. Ciobica

running I trip unplanned snow angel
    Frank Muller

five-year-old why butter fly
    Geoff Pope

the last call of a raven masked faces
    Hifsa Ashraf

long afternoons bits and pieces of it drift by
    Jay Friedenberg

years posthumously his duck decoys remember his hands
    Jenna Le

twilight mourning doves own the birdbath
    Jill Lange

her mouth a story without words
    Jim Mazza

our skiff’s drift into a merganser’s whistle
    Jo Balistreri

crunch!      I jump into a pile of leaves
    Joan Leotta

forest floor wild berries tempt me
    Joanna Ashwell

through fog on calm waters a slow sliding ferry
    Joel Savishinsky

reindeer antlers on my garden Buddha
    John J. Dunphy

october night why not the long way home
    John Pappas

this hotel room anonymous musk
    Karla Linn Merrifield

hole in a leaf moon viewing
    Kath Abela Wilson

an afternoon nap so glad to be old
    Katya Sabaroff Taylor

believing in moon magic witch-hazel flowers
    Kristen Lindquist

growing old the cup of tea i hate to have
    Lakshmi Iyer

kitchen radio bad morning great song
    Laurinda Lind

pressed into service a haiku about grapes
    Lorraine A Padden

hydrangeas the space between black cats
    Marcie Wessels

maple leaves brighter red than candy wrappers
    Margaret Fisher Squires

stone by stone a cairn for the missing
    Marianne Paul

a wrinkle in time old friends
    Marilyn Ashbaugh

the familiar sunrise in this unfamiliar place
    Marilyn Humbert

sunset turns from red to purple      plum tree
    Marta Chocilowska

feng shui       rain falls at a wrong angle
    Maya Daneva

it is hard     to meditate     in two different shoes
    Michael Flanagan

mended gold-embossed black teacups her cancer breaks me
    Michael G. Smith

staring woodenly past his shoulder a tailor’s dummy
    Mike Gallagher

counting holes in acoustic tiles bus station layover
    Mimi Foyle

her pouty lips while feeding hummingbirds
    Mirela Brailean

I won’t outlast this roll of postage stamps
    Miriam Sagan

taste of slivered almond moon
    Nancy Brady

climbing uphill the wind in the prayer flags
    Neena Singh

grandpa’s garden beyond his humming
    Pat Davis

poetry reading a plaster on my nose
    Paul Beech

winter loneliness garden bench
    Paul Callus

harsh words my love gauge drops
    Pris Campbell

attic cobwebs a costume wig finds a home
    Richard Matta

not a dream that mountain roar
    Robert Epstein

stir in one direction egg drop soup
    Roberta Jacobson

bald eagle watching our binoculars turning our white heads
    Ruth Yarrow

a hole in my day flat tire
    Susan Burch

canyon bottom up to the echo
    Theresa A. Cancro

an untamed garden the story before our story
    Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

touching warm soft ashes last night’s campfire in the morning
    Tina Wright

nursery school to begin with holding hands
    Tom Clausen

accepting me for what I am a rose in my braid
    Vandana Parashar

for a moment in the autumn night a lonely star
    Vibeke Laier

first snow in the monastery courtyard the scent of porridge
    Wieslaw Karlinski

rabbits leaving the path to me
    Wilda Morris

lights off dancing from room to room still shy
    Zee Zahava