night haiku — from sunset to sunrise

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

The theme this month is night.

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


campfire
the crescendo
of cricket songs
    Adjei Agyei-Baah

the night is also in my mirror
    ai li

passing the boarding house
where Dad spent one night
before his final days
    Alan Bern

so, little spider
we sleep in the same room
another night
    Alan Peat

not yet dawn
voices of neighbors
praising their dogs
    Alexis Rotella

chasing memories the night passes quickly
    Angela Giordano

broken thread
pearl necklace —
rainy night
    Angiola Inglese

s t r o b o s c o p e
neighborhood cats parade
past the motion sensor light
    Barbara Sabol

moongate
conspicuous in absence
a nightingale’s song
    Barbara Sayre

the damaged plate
from an old quarrel
kintsugi moon
    Barrie Levine

construction site —
even in the dark
the fragrance of lumber
    Bill Waters

falling star
the weight of words
left unsaid
    Billy Antonio

shades of
black blue purple gray
climb my bedroom walls all night
    Blue Waters

full moon . . .
the phone rings five times
and stops
    Brad Bennett

Milky Way
campfire and cocoa
the yip of coyotes
    Bryan D. Cook

lonely night
turning on the porch light
for the bugs
    Bryan Rickert

moving to a new home
driving at night
was a comfort
    C. Robin Janning

red eye flight
in my cocktail
a cherry
    Carol Judkins

I may have been
a lone dung beetle gazing
at the stars
    Carole Johnston

night vigil —
worried when he snores
worried when he doesn’t
    Carole MacRury

muggy night:
the same two tones
from the wind chime
    Charles Trumbull

a paper dove
on the barbed wire fence
gathering dark
    Chen-ou Liu

dusk
red beans simmer
on the charcoal
    Christina Chin

our cat
on sentry duty
night guard
    Christina Sng

guilty!
the feral hog caught
on the night vision camera
    Christine Wenk-Harrison

late night movie
passing the point
of falling asleep
    Claire Vogel Camargo

night train
on the steamed window
two drawn eyes
    Dan Iulian

under a watchful moon the possibility of fairies
    Debbie Strange

flashlight stroll —
always walking in
center beam
    Deborah Burke Henderson

a street light
illuminating
snow flakes
    Donna Fleischer

night book fair
so many styles
of mythmaking
    Elena Malec

cold night
mom puts on dad’s
favorite coat
    Florin C. Ciobica

broth for dinner . . .
measuring out ladles
of silence
    Geethanjali Rajan

full moon
time for my pressure cooker
to let off steam
    Helen Buckingham

night-blooming cereus
I too hold on
to the dark
    Jackie Chou

Perseid showers
buzz … slap … scratch … buzz … slap …
gazing anyway
    Janice Doppler

he gave up his cat
to wed her — now the stars
reproach her like cats’ eyes
    Jenna Le

raccoon
at water bowl
fingers the moon
    Jill Lange

past midnight
searching on my hands and knees
unfinished jigsaw puzzle
    Jim Mazza

date night —
a snack of skinny popcorn
while watching The Crown
    Jo Balistreri

nightfall
I scurry to light
all the lamps
    Joan Leotta

raindrops
scribbling away
until dawn
    Joanna Ashwell

out of the tunnel
into a stadium’s lights
night frames my city
    Joel Savishinsky

front porch
the full moon enters
a cobweb
    John J. Dunphy

no moon
I write about it
anyway
    John Pappas

basketball at night
the first jump
no one speaks
    Jorge Alberto Giallorenzi

wood stove
the oak returns
to the night
    Joshua St. Claire

starry night in the Andes —
a vicuna
crosses the road
    Julia Guzman

her great-grandchildren
wrapped in a crocheted afghan
a long night unfolds
    Julie Bloss Kelsey

like mother like daughter
sleep walking
step count
    Kath Abela Wilson

nighttime meditation
am i asleep
or awake
    Kathleen Kramer

too hot to sleep
I watch the moon pull
a long scarf of stars
    Katya Sabaroff Taylor

longest night
the lotus blossom pendant
cold on my throat
    Kristen Lindquist

starry night
the only solace
after chemo
    Lakshmi Iyer

sleeptalking
dementia cured
until she wakes again
    Laurinda Lind

knitting
our night together
baby monitor
    Lorraine A Padden

flickering lamps
late night devotees
on the temple doorstep
    Madhuri Pillai

long night —
every noise
a reindeer hoof
    Marcie Wessels

today’s to-do’s untouched tonight
    Margaret Walker

white peony tea
snow so fine the night
has flowered
    Marianne Paul

night saguaros in the skyline
    Marilyn Ashbaugh

curlew’s cry
cracks the black glass
of night
    Marilyn Humbert

sick mom
a night-night lullaby
to her
    Marta Chocilowska

fallen leaves
the night wind
whistles the blues
    Mary Kendall

four or five
moons in the puddle
a trout is jumping
    Maya Daneva

night breeze      pausing on my walk      catching your perfume
    Michael Flanagan

finding balance
in chaotic Kathmandu
familiar constellations
    Michael G. Smith

frosty night
the loosened grip of moss
falling from the roof
    Mike Gallagher

alone in the night kitchen     do you think of me
    Mimi Foyle

night shift
moving from one pillow
to another
    Mirela Brailean

embroidering
on a cold night
such a sharp needle
    Miriam Sagan

evening walk . . .
the heavy fog wraps its tentacles
around us
    Nancy Brady

wild jasmine . . .
a fragrant night
till long after
    Neena Singh

new telescope
the Big Dipper
overflowing
    Pat Davis

a rough sleeper —
coughing she studies
Orion
    Paul Beech

shingles —
it is not the fire alarm
that disturbs my sleep
    Paul Callus

branches laden
with moonglow
ripening pears
    Paula Sears

backyard campfire
we share wild stories
from our youth
    Pris Campbell

cool night
choosing the cup
without a handle
    Richard Matta

catching
& releasing
this firefly night
    Robert Epstein

sky dance of unnamed stars
    Roberta Beach Jacobson

nightwatchman
searches the corners
nothing moves
    Ron Scully

mother-of-pearl
in the sunset’s underlayer —
pawnshop lights go on
    Ruth Yarrow

did I take my meds or not pillbox moon
    Susan Burch

the loud tent zipper
I step out quietly
to search the midnight sky
    Teresa Bakota Yatsko

bedtime story . . .
her teddy bear
approves
    Theresa A. Cancro

boundless
the stars within
a rose
    Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

after the movie
this fall’s first bus ride past dark
feels like space travel
    Tina Wright

winter night licking the spoon clean
    Tom Clausen

barbecue night
I flip
the story around
    Vandana Parashar

the silence
of a winter night
butterfly dreams
    Vibeke Laier

another full moon
granddaughter bakes her first
rice cakes    
    Wieslaw Karlinski

never burned Aunt Carol’s stay-in-the-oven-all-night cookies
    Wilda Morris

nighttime
broken window
nowhere to hide
    Yvonne Fisher

computer dream
i call out in my sleep . . .
“delete delete delete”
    Zee Zahava

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

kitchen haiku

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

The theme of this month’s collection is “kitchen haiku”

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


a sink
full of
unfulfilled dreams
    ai li

grandma’s pantry . . .
hidden behind the preserves
pear wine
    Al Gallia

dirty dishes
wait in the cupboard
clean ones in the sink
    Alan Bern

back of the pantry a label in dad’s hand
    Alan Peat

fry up —
she adds more spice
to yesterday’s story
    Alan Peat

window feeder
watching the goldfinch
watching me eat
    Alan Peat

feeding vinegar through the coffee machine deep cleanse
    Alan Summers

clearing the toaster
of more than crumbs
window clouds
    Alan Summers

eggs benedict
for breakfast
and roses just picked
    Alexis Rotella

cakes in the oven
we walk
on tiptoes
    Alexis Rotella

geography lesson —
I slice a pomegranate
as I draw a volcano
    Ana Drobot

shortcrust pastry your harsh words
    Angela Giordano

early autumn
pear jam
for breakfast
    Angiola Inglese

tax man
we spread last year
on the kitchen table
    Barbara Kaufmann

making pesto
for once I keep the splatter
off the ceiling
    Barbara Kaufmann

friday
on the refrigerator door
a new drawing
    Barbara Sayre

iron teapot
the time it takes
to grow old
    Barrie Levine

my daughter
saving the world
cloth napkins
    Barrie Levine

taste test —
discovering the typo
in the recipe
    Bill Waters

mom’s six sisters
loud and wildly cooking
watch your back
    Blue Waters

winter tea
fifty-four bones
cradling my cup
    Brad Bennett

guests due soon
more coriander
more cumin
    Brad Bennett

ergonometric kitchen
still tripping over
the cat’s food bowl
    Bryan D. Cook

winter solitude
reminding myself chocolate
isn’t a meal
    Bryan Rickert

mother’s funeral
the silence of
her tea kettle
    Bryan Rickert

something green always
growing in a glass or jar
my mother’s kitchen
    C. Robin Janning

my sous chef
brave enough to use
the mandoline
    Carol Judkins

vintage pyrex
tuna fish casserole
every friday night
    Carol Judkins

singing hymns
mother peeling apples
her bagpipe voice
    Carole Johnston

fruit flies . . .
time to turn bananas
into bread
    Carole MacRury

late life —
using the good china
for breakfast
    Carole MacRury

sunlit windowsill . . .
another avocado seed
fails to sprout
    Carole MacRury

morning coffee
lip-prints on her cup
and my cheek
    Chen Xiaoou

leftovers
on the kitchen table . . .
things half-spoken
    Chen-ou Liu

housewarming cake
the neighbor’s knife rack shaped
like a human body
    Chen-ou Liu

an assortment
in the air fryer
doughnut holes
    Christina Chin

those little beetroots pickling the garden
    Christina Martin

lids on lids off
steaming cauliflower
almost a spill
    Christina Martin

kitchen herbs      leaning toward the sun
    Christina Sng

garden party
the gathering begins
and ends in the kitchen
    Christine Wenk-Harrison

gran at the stove
not wanting any help
her apple pie
    Claire Vogel Camargo

scrubbing
the kitchen sink
storm watch
    C.R. Harper

mason jars
a cucumber ribbon curls
around my wrist
    Debbie Strange

my auntie’s kitchen
linoleum worn thin at
the stove
    Deborah Burke Henderson

dishwasher rhythms
fill her dream
empty night
    Donna Fleischer

rainy weather
champignons a la creme
everyday
    Elena Malec

kitchen window
day moon stained
with ketchup
    Florin C. Ciobica

pan overflowing with fresh garden colors
    Frank Muller

grandma’s home
a summer spiced
with pickled mangoes
    Geethanjali Rajan

winter morning chill
pounding fresh ginger
to spice my chai
    Geethanjali Rajan

first gas stove
third burnt meal —
kids opening windows
    Geoff Pope

grocery bags . . .
the cat waits
for that sound
    Geoff Pope

burnt out bulb
the cutting board’s
white scratches
    Glenn Ingersoll

my grandmother hummed
whenever she baked a cake
we tasted her song
    Jack Goldman

bygone friends . . .
kitchen cabinet filled with
souvenir mugs
    Jackie Chou

wrapping dumplings
our special bonding
in every fold
    Jackie Chou

thawing shrimp under the tap
snowmelt drips
down the kitchen window
    Jenna Le

dad’s birthday cake
cutting the slices thin
to make them last
    Jenna Le

commercial break —
rushing i drop my cupcake
in the cat bowl
    Jill Lange

her rolling pin just being
there in the drawer
how it connects me
    Jill Lange

the cactus found
in grandmother’s window
here now with its offspring
    Jill Lange

smells of dinner —
tomatoes, dad is home
lamb, dad’s at work
    Joan Leotta

additions
to the recipe
spider threads
    Joanna Ashwell

butterfly cakes
just the sound
of raindrops
    Joanna Ashwell

bland soup
silent sit-alone breakfast
after break-up
    Joe Sebastian

sneaking from behind
I grab her at the sink
she breaks a small glass
    Joel Savishinsky

kitchen sink
walking on the suds
a daddy long-legs
    John J. Dunphy

power outage
I ransack the kitchen for
the manual can opener
    John J. Dunphy

peeling onions imagining my parents as children
    John Pappas

squash soup
the pain in my elbow
stirring
    John Pappas

woven into the kitchen curtain
a strand
of mom’s hair
    Jorge Alberto Giallorenzi

icebox
grandmother tells me about
her grandmother’s springhouse
    Joshua St. Claire

overcrowded kitchen . . . no space for my sister’s absence
    Julia Guzman

potato omelette —
the same saucepan
generation to generation
    Julia Guzman

silverware drawer a single spoon lonely
    Karla Linn Merrifield

boosting spirits
inviting friends again
to our kitchen table
    Kath Abela Wilson

under the dish towels
mother’s stash
of caramels
    Kathleen Kramer

rainy day train
kitchen chairs in a row
i’m the engineer
    Kathleen Kramer

kitchen table
the sun casts a glow over
the quan yin statue
    Katya Sabaroff Taylor

turmeric sky
grandma’s cookbook pages
smudged in yellow
    Lakshmi Iyer

aroma of masala still
in the washed kitchen towels . . .
family reunion
    Lakshmi Iyer

stay outside
in breathable air
oven cleaning cycle
    Laurinda Lind

lack of ego the celery allows the dip
    Lorraine A Padden

first love
the rosemary pressed
in her cookbook
    Lorraine A Padden

cassoulet
all the French
I’ll ever need
    Lorraine A Padden

chilly night
the warmth of another
chipotle in the chili
    Marcie Wessels

trussing a chicken
for sunday dinner
not quite julia child
    Marcie Wessels

expired the pantry bare
    Margaret Walker

family reunion
my adult sister kicks me
under the table
    Marianne Paul

cottage pantry
ants ants ants ants
in the cake
    Marianne Paul

rusty iron pot
wondering about
going makeup-free
    Marietta McGregor

cool morning
the sun and yeast
slowly rise
    Marilyn Ashbaugh

first apartment
the turkey too big
for the oven
    Marilyn Ashbaugh

outdoor kitchen
campfire pan sizzles
with sausages
    Marilyn Humbert

new year’s eve
busy preparing dough
for the first bread
    Marta Chocilowska

teatime
just water and leaves
you and me
    Mary Kendall

summer backyard kitchen
this bee rests in the shade
of my whisk
    Maya Daneva

one cup one plate one fork . . . life alone
    Michael Flanagan

since you’ve gone
the oven is a museum
for relics of past feasts
    Michael Flanagan

the recipe calls for lemons
no lemons here
I use blueberries
    Michael G. Smith

my inheritance
from her welsh cupboard
the willow pattern
    Mike Gallagher

new dishwasher
now we argue about
who empties it
    Mike Gallagher

midnight prowl
a frightened house gecko
on the fridge
    Milan Rajkumar

slicing bamboo shoots —
the shape of father’s hands
in my own
    Milan Rajkumar

wilderness kitchen
the hollowed-out hardwood sink
sprouts moss and mushrooms
    Mimi Foyle

grey morning
a pinch of cinnamon
in my tea
    Mirela Brailean

haiku submissions:
pots and pans in the sink
await their turn
    Neena Singh

salt and pepper
on the kitchen table
match my hair
    Neena Singh

kitchen table
how I miss my
window
    Pat Davis

long before the term
multipurpose room
our kitchen
    Pat Davis

busy bakers
in an old folks’ home
their cookbook wins a prize
    Paul Beech

smartphones in hand —
the soup
grows colder
    Paul Callus

cleaning
the entire house
guests gather in our kitchen
    Paula Sears

sifting through
grandma’s recipe box
she practices cursive
    Paula Sears

preacher day
one chicken and cobbed corn
fills us all
    Pris Campbell

dinner call
my imaginary playmate’s
empty plate
    Pris Campbell

alone . . .
mother learns
to microwave
    Pris Campbell

nearly winter thyme drying in the oven
    Richard Matta

morning tea
splashes of grey
on my saucer
    Richard Matta

monday, let’s do this
crock pot slowly works magic . . .
dinner served at six
    Roberta Beach Jacobson

new refrigerator the dent that came with it
    Susan Burch

elbows off the table
so we don’t squash
the fairies
    Theresa A. Cancro

practicing arabesque
a kitchen chair stands in
for his arm
    Theresa A. Cancro

that Portland bar
i baked pan pizzas in an old stove
black as a train
    Tina Wright

in the kitchen
my “personal things”
top shelf
    Tom Clausen

two teacups
the years they have sat
side by side
    Tom Clausen

hovering mom-in-law
my kitchen is now
a sanity-free zone
    Vandana Parashar

by the kitchen window
pigeons repair
last year’s nest
    Vibeke Laier

autumn moon
shadows of the old oak tree
on my kitchen wall
    Vibeke Laier

third coffee
just before dawn
new haiku
    Wieslaw Karlinski

middle of autumn
granddaughter bakes on her own
rice cakes
    Wieslaw Karlinski

his and hers
cream cheese on my waffle
maple syrup on his
    Wilda Morris

after all these years
still reading the directions . . .
hard boiled eggs
    Zee Zahava

homeplace

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


The theme of this month’s collection is “homeplace”

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


old malaya
the only way back
is to dream
    ai li

dallas, texas
tarzan matinee starting
all bike racks filled
    Al Gallia

berkeley everything expected begins again
    Alan Bern

bowburn, england
putting granddad back
in the garden
    Alan Peat

cairnbrook, pennsylvania
first grade photo
my bangs crooked
    Alexis Rotella

bucharest, romania
not visible when I
spin the globe
    Ana Drobot

avigliano, italy
mother teaches me
to knit
    Angela Giordano

camogli, italy
the wind tastes of salt
and fried fish
    Angiola Inglese

northern appalachia
the abandoned quarry
our riviera
    Barbara Sabol

akron, ohio
planting a row of catnip
for the kittens
    Barbara Tate Sayre

linden, new jersey
hungry in Hebrew school
for five years
    Barrie Levine

greensburg, kansas
chasing crows
down rows of cornstalks
    Blue Waters

banstead, england
watching the cricket game
from high in a may tree
    Bryan D. Cook

belleville, illinois
the geese that pass through
twice a year
    Bryan Rickert

dayton, ohio
stars and clouds all know my name . . .
autumn insects hum
    C. Robin Janning

pearl harbor
the oval roof
of our quonset hut
    Carol Judkins

santa fe trail
beneath the wind-bent grass
the ruts of ages
    Charles Trumball

fuzhou, fujian
carrying water home
in buckets
    Chen Xiaoou

old map of taipei . . .
lost again in the backstreets
of my mind
    Chen-ou Liu

borneo
bamboo longhouses
i worry about fire
    Christina Chin

great neck, long island
the old house
fireflies
    Christina Martin

penang road, singapore
sitting like a boss
poking through dad’s desk
    Christina Sng

christmas in manila
the sound of tambourines
made of bottle caps
    Christine L. Villa

new mexico desert
dad lays out
mom’s japanese garden
    Christine Wenk-Harrison

midland, texas
crouched under my first-grade desk
nuclear bomb drill
    Claire Vogel Camargo

saskatchewan plain(s)ongs meadowlarks on my mind
    Debbie Strange

reading, massachusetts
her ghost stories keep me
wide-eyed until dawn
    Deborah Burke Henderson

northern spain
pink foggy breath
awakens the river
    Elena Calvo

somewhere in bucharest
the apricot tree
my childhood hideout
    Elena Malec

unteni, romania —
the scarecrow still wears
my school uniform
    Florin C. Ciobica

thibodaux, louisiana
swimming in the bayou
until caught
    Geoff Pope

rawalpindi, pakistan
exchanging little secrets
roof to roof
    Hifsa Ashraf

a bronx apartment
aunts, uncles, and grandparents
a poor kid’s kingdom
    Jack Goldman

taipei, taiwan
oyster omelets sizzle
in the night market
    Jackie Chou

philadelphia
mustard on warm soft pretzels
dense and chewy
    Janice Doppler

edina, minnesota
my scraped knee skin cells
still mixed with the asphalt
    Jenna Le

pennsylvania avenue —
our front lawn generous
with four-leaf clovers
    Jill Lange

ithaca, new york
pulled by my hair
swimming-hole rescue
    Jim Mazza

pittsburgh, pennsylvania
making my own soda
in dad’s drugstore
    Joan Leotta

the pennine hills
curlew cries
through the mist
    Joanna Ashwell

bronx apartment
a stool by the stove
watching babeh make kugel
    Joel Savishinsky

alton, illinois
we rotate potted plants beneath
our leaky roof
    John J. Dunphy

north adams, massachusetts
my father picked berries
for school clothes money
    John Pappas

chivilcoy, argentina
home from school
my smock stained with red berries
    Jorge Giallorenzi

new freedom, pennsylvania
picking wildflowers
between the train tracks
    Joshua St. Claire

cordoba, argentina
the sound of bells
among the raindrops
    Julia Guzman

bountiful, utah
still in the backyard
eating sour plums
    Julie Bloss Kelsey

staten island
my bedroom nightlight
was manhattan
    Kath Abela Wilson

curwensville, pennsylvania
tannery whistle
seven, noon, and five
    Kathy Kramer

san francisco fog
only the golden gate bridge
says where we still are
    Katya Sabaroll Taylor

kerala, india
grandpa sings stories
of the temple elephants
    Lakshmi Iyer

black lake, new york
daily chore
raking up dead fish
    Laurinda Lind

wisconsin farm land
the cows
in our driveway
    Lorraine A Padden

mansfield, ohio
engines from the sports car course start
the summer heat
    Marcie Wessels

arlington, virginia
pretending to paint the house
with real mud
    Margaret Fisher Squires

pawleys island, south carolina
flip flops
in the pluff mud
    Margaret Walker

charleston lake, canada
breaking through the thin ice
with our canoes
    Marianne Paul

calivil, victoria
moving the cattle herd
lost in dust
    Marilyn Humbert

old Warsaw ruins
a crate of mossy wine bottles
in the cellar
    Marta Chocilowska

buffalo, new york
our childhoods shaped
by snow & more snow
    Mary Kendall

buffalo, new york
home of the buffalo bills
i love the t-shirts
    Masha M.

auburn, new york
hitching to my first job
running the merry-go-round
    Michael Flanagan

rahway, new jersey
oil refineries upwind
pool covered in soot
    Michael G. Smith

achill islanders
forever facing out to sea
living and dead
    Mike Gallagher

manipur, india
grandpa says
“we gave the world the game of polo”
    Milan Rajkumar

hyde park library
fortnightly destination
ten books, one doughnut
    Mimi Foyle

bucovina, romania
on my grandparents’ porch
just an old cricket
    Mirela Brailean

crossing the george washington bridge lower level we call her martha
    Miriam Sagan

lucknow, india
wishing upon the star
mom became
    Neena Singh

east boston
the front stoop
where everything was shared
    Pat Davis

lancashire mill town
with my thruppence
I buy sherbet lemons
    Paul Beech

hal safi, malta
struggling up the ladder
the old lantern lighter
    Paul Callus

pageland, south carolina
posed on watermelons
for tv news
    Pris Campbell

new york’s hudson valley
summers finding fossils
on the hillside
    Richard L. Matta

saddle brook, new jersey
sweat pouring down our faces
stoop ball
    Robert Epstein

rural ohio
enough poison sumac
for everybody
    Roberta Beach Jacobson

all rhode island
my arms and legs
your harbors
    Ron Scully

manaus, brazil
the river showed my face
and I bowed to it
    Rosa Clement

frederick, maryland
begging for a quarter
for the vending machines
    Susan Burch

silver spring, maryland . . .
raising baby bunnies
in the playhouse
    Theresa A. Cancro

moravia, new york
home revealed to me reading
winesburg, ohio
    Tina Wright

ithaca, new york
every time i leave
i have returned
    Tom Clausen

ambala cantt, india
a squirrel and I race
for the last guava
    Vandana Parashar

randers, denmark
shadow of the old oak tree
all my sleeping dolls
    Vibeke Laier

iowa city
walking home on the frozen creek —
in trouble again
    Wilda Morris

bronx, new york
we put olives on our fingers
and call them puppets
    Zee Zahava

water haiku

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


The theme of this month’s collection is “water.”

Contributing poets are from Argentina, Australia, Brazil, Canada, China, Denmark, Ecuador, England, Ghana, India, Ireland, Italy, Japan, Malaysia, Malta, Pakistan, Philippines, Poland, Romania, Singapore, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, the United States, and Wales    


koi —
the pond’s smile
in one bubble
    Adjei Agyei-Baah   

a leak
my roof
crying
    ai li

hose on
discovering water’s pressure
tiny grandson
    Alan Bern

raining
and raining
a swan’s folded neck
    Alan Peat

live cam
four different views
of the rain
    Alan Peat

the ghost lines
of offshore turbines
flickering moon
    Alan Summers

dust devils running from the rain
    Alexis Rotella

puddle —
the reflected moon
vibrates in the wind
    Angela Giordano

cut roses
in a glass beaker
broken stems
    Angiola Inglese

swimming in the great lake sturgeon moon
    Barbara Sabol

summer camp
bound by no boundaries
the old fishing hole
    Barbara Tate Sayre

foot fountain —
leaving the sand
at the public beach
    Barrie Levine

swim team
all through school
my wet hair
    Barrie Levine  

pulling our blanket
out of the way . . .
afternoon tide
    Barrie Levine

in the standing water
two children
standing
    Bill Waters

endlessly
the fountain
shooting skyward
    Bill Waters

picking up a pebble the river after
    Billy Antonio

more rain
after the rain
bamboo forest
    Billy Antonio

wanting to spit
like Kansas cowboys —
practicing my aim intently
    Blue Waters

eighteenth hole
a puddle of snowmelt
in the plastic sled
    Brad Bennett

watering the garden
except the monarchs
and painted ladies
    Bryan D. Cook

sudden rain
pill bugs from out
of nowhere
    Bryan Rickert

muting the trumpet flowers morning rain
    Bryan Rickert

dialing down
my blood pressure . . .
hot springs
    Carol Judkins

lavender rain
my purple umbrella
dripping
    Carole Johnston

in and out
of the sprinkler’s spray
hummingbird
    Carole MacRury

departing geese —
a bit of the lake
still on their wings
    Carole MacRury

sweltering heat
the weight of wasps
on duckweed
    Caroline Skanne

monks’ ferry rope
frozen
in the river ice
    Charles Trumbull

prolonged drought
throwing stones in the pond
without a splash
    Chen Xiaoou

moonlight lapping
against the Pacific shore
the home left behind
    Chen-ou Liu

snorkeling
among the seagrass
a scallop shoots up
    Christina Chin    

after a run        my cat licks my arm
    Christina Sng

liberation
her first test
of an outdoor shower
    Christine Wenk-Harrison

imagining
living where once there was
the Permian Sea
    Claire Vogel Camargo

dog days
the only fountain
in the park
    C.R. Harper

calving glacier
i decide when
to let go
    Debbie Strange

the Buddha
contemplates life —
reflection pool
    Deborah Burke Henderson

drips of sweat
on her cleavage
ice cubes swirl
    Donna Fleischer

fish bowl
in the cat’s iris
a guppy
    Elena Malec

wishing well
my coin
turns green
    Florin C. Ciobica

waterfall icicles hang like frozen fangs
    Frank Muller

glassy lake —
water skiing to the end
of summer
    Geoff Pope

where two rivers meet
we renew our vows . . .
tugboat horn
    Geoff Pope

next door’s lies
coiled in the grass
hosepipe ban
    Helen Buckingham

monsoon rain
simmering down
the stew of dals
    Hifsa Ashraf

watering my plants
I sometimes forget their names
they don’t seem to mind
    Jack Goldman

seaside picnic . . .
length of an eyeblink
porpoise fin
    Janice Doppler

long afternoon the slow drift of pond scum
    Jay Friedenberg

sipping water
before my blood test
whirlpool in my stomach
    Jenna Le

back strokin’
at the neighborhood pool
the new person i become
    Jill Lange

today this t-shirt
words of a favorite teacher
“go as a river”
    Jill Lange

first college exam
sweating the outcome
of the freshman swim test
    Jim Mazza

dad says “swim!” —
my arms move but
toes remain on stones
    Joan Leotta

kitchen sink
the pop of bubbles
all around us
    Joanna Ashwell    

summer showers
more gulls land on the
cricket field
    Joe Sebastian

testing     testing     a new baby’s bath water
    Joel Savishinsky

drought water-rationing
I fill my birdbath
with Evian
    John J. Dunphy

floating out to sea our frisbee
    John J. Dunphy

used-book store
owner empties
a bucket of rain
    John J. Dunphy

rain on the wind chimes
even the snails
listening
    John Pappas

another autumn
old rowboat
filling up with rain
    John Pappas

birthday —
mom’s vase
with very little water
    Jorge Alberto Giallorenzi

upslope fog
the Atlantic swallows
Backbone Mountain
    Joshua St. Claire

beach day —
the children’s laughter
louder than the waves
    Julia Guzman

mom wrote
her name on water
lily of the Nile
    Kath Abela Wilson

family picnic
dad rowed the boat
at Wolf’s Pond Park
    Kath Abela Wilson

another hot day
twelve guernsey cows
wade in the river
    Kathleen Kramer

today, needing to be empty
i went to the lake and wept
until i was
    Kathleen Kramer

sometimes all I need
is a rippling summer pond
and one white egret
    Katya Sabaroff Taylor

the pond where the moon sleeps all day
    kris moon kondo

all my tears
let them make
a pond
    kris moon kondo

either sky or ocean the first blue puzzle piece
    Kristen Lindquiet

rusted water fountain . . .
the pigeons keep pecking
inside the nozzle
    Lakshmi Iyer

mosquito hatcheries
the puddles
that never dry
    Laurinda Lind

occasional drizzle
ink landing
in the right place
    Lorraine A Padden

park walk
the dog brings in the puddle
drip by drip
    Madhuri Pillai

the damp spots
on father’s forehead and shirt
holy water
    Marcie Wessels

dry forecast
stonecrop
in the withered lake
    Marcie Wessels

ocean’s timelessness
sand castle’s impermanence
my footprints between
    Margaret Fisher Squires

another puddle
mud pies
on the menu
    Margaret Walker

the wake
of a pelican’s landing
his wide grin
    Marilyn Humbert        

long rain
the great grey slugs
crawl out
    Marta Chocilowska

washed up
without a song
moon shell
    Mary Kendall

icy rain —
somehow this ache
just won’t leave
    Mary Kendall

half-dried swamp
the spatterdock still
in full bloom
    Maya Daneva

again
but with stronger words
receding wave
    Maya Daneva

I stop shaking this snow globe       all becomes clear
    Michael Flanagan

wandering the beach
driftwood
suddenly scarce
    Michael Flanagan

city lake
camp kids practicing
whitewater kayak rolls
    Michael G. Smith       

tear-soaked
at the kitchen table
family history
    Mike Gallagher

temple bell
the bowl of water ripples
for a moment
    Milan Rajkumar

dew drop prisms flash
from spider’s web
sun-saturated
    Mimi Foyle

raindrops dangling from a papaya stem . . . . liquid moonstones
    Mimi Foyle

so much water
in the acequia
am I dreaming
    Miriam Sagan

walking in the rain
this half-rainbow
between us
    Neena Singh

a water lily
rises above itself . . .
meditation
    Neena Singh

incoming tide
the slow roll
of a new plan
    Pat Davis

wriggling
out of the mist
the heron and a fish
    Pat Davis

gulls squawk
the river flows on
beneath the castle ruins
    Paul Beech

the rock pool crab
meets me eye-to-eye
I back off
    Paul Beech

falling rain a pluviophile pulls on his boots
    Paul Callus

health gone
a different rolling sea
beneath my feet
    Pris Campbell

turning five
my neighbor’s goldfish
hit of the party
    Pris Campbell

lake fishing
snagging a kite
caught in a tree
    Richard Matta

summer heat
two wrens bathing
in a dog’s bowl
    Richard Matta

bathroom window —
a mockingbird’s song
joins me in the shower
    Robert Epstein

dewdrops on the tulips my aching heart
    Robert Epstein

walking the reservoir that woodpecker’s knock-knock-knock
    Robert Epstein

steaming
her wallpaper off
gran’s tea kettle
    Roberta Beach Jacobson

hauling water
making up verses
of shared songs
    Roberta Beach Jacobson

staycation ring around the bathtub
    Roberta Beach Jacobson

waterwheel
off the hotel lobby
check in / check out
    Ron Scully

deserted beach
waves take back
a few ghost crabs
    Rosa Clement

dreaming of a woman
trapped under water —
my leg in a cast
    Seretta Martin

first love jumping through sprinklers
    Susan Burch

summer improv shampoo bottle squirt guns
    Susan Burch

on mother’s death bed
a sponge bath
never had such intimacy
    Teresa Bakota Yatsko

drizzle . . .
so many
verbs to conjugate
    Theresa A. Cancro

an endless ocean
such are
the dreams of mine
    Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

new day
she goes around spritzing
each plant
    Tom Clausen

the way gravity
takes water over stones
creek song
    Tom Clausen

morning chores a puddle within a puddle
    Vandana Parashar

flotation tank
do I need to have
all the answers
    Vandana Parashar

hospital window
the rain meant for me
falls on the tree
    Vandana Parashar

full moon
a forest lake
with frozen stars
    Vibeke Laier

a pebble from the sea
with a trace of
lipstick
    Wieslaw Karlinski

summer breeze plastic bags blowing into the pond
    Wilda Morris

folksongs     the ‘60s     here come my tears again
    Zee Zahava

shallow pond
frog closes his eyes and
disappears
    Zee Zahava

sound / no sound

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

The theme of this month’s collection is “sound / no sound”


Contributing poets are from Argentina, Australia, Brazil, Canada, Denmark, Ecuador, England, Ghana, India, Ireland, Italy, Japan, Malaysia, Malta, Pakistan, Poland, Romania, Singapore, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, the United States, and Wales     


old barber
his scissors snip
around my ears
    Adjei Agyei-Baah

the hidden language of dentures
    ai li

desert wind . . .
the rusty windmill
squeals all night
    Al Gallia

a new crack in the twice-recast Liberty Bell
    Alan Bern

amplified in the bird box   bees
    Alan Peat

footsteps ring along a sidewalk the fog lifting
    Alan Summers

a monk
sounding the butterfly
out of the bell
    Alexis Rotella

written exam —
the silence interrupted by
a question
    Ana Drobot

silence reigns
in this empty house —
I miss you mom
    Angela Giordano

yellow zinnias —
the cell phone rings
inside the bag
    Angiola Inglese

argument settled
a single clink of her teaspoon
against the cup
    Barbara Sabol

solitude
dust gathers in his
empty room
    Barbara Tate Sayre

aisle seat
the click of the ticket punch
getting closer
    Barrie Levine

storm front!
up and down the street
mothers calling
    Bill Waters

loving to hear
what dad didn’t say —
long drives in his truck
    Blue Waters

whistling along Wyoming
    Brad Bennett

two-minute silence
at the cenotaph
a veteran weeps
    Bryan D. Cook

horror flick
the sloppy kiss
of the couple behind me
    Bryan Rickert

waking before birds
no song accompanies my
stumbling steps
    C. Robin Janning

magic forest
the tintinnabulation
of fairy bells
    Carol Judkins

thump thump thump
street basketball
long into the night
    Carole Johnston

sleeping in —
the silence
of the cat’s stare
    Carole MacRury

a foreign language:
I listen to the poem
just for its music
    Charles Trumbull

the clatter
of this rusty gate
foreclosure
    Chen-ou Liu

quietude . . .
phlox blossoms round
the stone Buddha
    Christina Chin

whisper of wool
nothing
but the crochet hook
    Christina Martin

crackling
my son’s voice
changing
    Christina Sng

tv yoga
static interrupts
shavasana
    Christine Wenk-Harrison

under covers
beneath an open window
angry voices
    Claire Vogel Camargo

five a.m. white-crowned sparrow’s etude
    C.R. Harper

that dog
he doesn’t know
why he’s barking
    David Watts

watersongs the differing frequencies of stones
    Debbie Strange

spirit totem
a swallowtail pulsates
around her cairn
    Deborah Burke Henderson

because snow quiet
because ancient sun and moon
the way hearts sing
    Donna Fleischer

flying
with no sound
origami plane
    Elena Malec

first thunder
my boy bursts
his balloon
    Florin C. Ciobica

waiting room —
the fidgety clicks
of someone’s pen
    Geethanjali Rajan

lead singer
1980s basement band —
hearing loss
    Geoff Pope

spring solitude
a chickadee’s thrum
from the knothole
    Hifsa Ashraf

my mother singing
along with the radio
tuned in to her dreams
    Jack Goldman

morning chill . . .
the squeak of his chalk
on the blackboard
    Jackie Chou

street performer
draws a crowd
the clink of coins
    Janice Doppler

spilled ice cream
the duck’s quacks
sound like laughter
    Jay Friedenberg

the whole room yells
“unmute yourself” as if
they care what he’s saying
    Jenna Le

beyond pine shadows
and crickets . . . the clop
clop of an Amish buggy
    Jill Lange

in between . . .
the krawk krawk krawk
of a pinyon jay
    Jo Balistreri

dancing to my own heartbeat
    Joan Leotta

songbirds
suddenly
I’m not alone
    Joanna Ashwell

burying our friend
we walk back singing that song
half-moon on gravesite
    Joel Savishinsky

the pause
after I ask
if she still loves me
    John J. Dunphy

catching my breath
the parp and wheeze
of an old bike horn
    John Pappas

frozen snow —
I hear
the loneliness
    Jorge Alberto Giallorenzi
    
the tern’s call the enormity of the sea
    Joshua St. Claire

ploughed fields
oxen mooing
under the ombu tree
    Julia Guzman

mature garden the squeak of an old wheelbarrow
    Karen Harvey

at the Shinto shrine
bow twice, clap twice, bow again
make a little wish
    Karla Linn Merrifield

finally getting the right tone singing bowl
    Kath Abela Wilson

80 years
of yankees’ games
turning the sound up now
    Kathleen Kramer

one hot June morning
blueberry meditation
orbs ping on brass bowl
    Katya Sabaroff Taylor

harvest moon . . .
through the violet veiled night
my muse whispers
    kris moon

day lilies open wide . . .
loud laughter
from our neighbor’s party
    Kristen Lindquist

parched earth
a loud crack of thunder
from an earthen pot
    Lakshmi Iyer

so hard
not to slam
the door
    Laurinda Lind

morse coding climate change the fireflies
    Lorraine A. Padden

insomnia . . .
woodworm working
in the dark
    Lucia Cardillo

stale mint gum
the clank of a zipper
in the dryer
    Marcie Wessels

like a small distant
elephant trumpeting: fart
under the blankets
    Margaret Fisher Squires

sunday dinner
the children’s table
on the porch
    Margaret Walker

djembe
the throbbing heat
of summer
    Marilyn Ashbaugh

outback night
dingoes’ songs echo
across the gorge
    Marilyn Humbert

just married
joyful shivarees
all night long
    Marta Chocilowska

lyrics long forgotten
the melody always
in my mind
    Mary Kendall

sweet summer peach
 slurping the best bit from the pit
    Masha M.

summer heat
buzzing flies take refuge
in the basement
    Maya Daneva

in that sliver of blackness
between barn and moon
coyote calls his name
    Michael Flanagan

uncanny
his lawn mower knows
I meditate
    Michael G. Smith

talking
to his plate
alone
    Mike Gallagher

summer storm
all these silent talks
between you and me
    Milan Rajkumar

night walking alone
i miss the sweet harmonies
i no longer hear
    Mimi Foyle

family meal
from the other chair
the cat’s meow
    Mirela Brailean

bells chime the hour
uneven stepping stones
across the stream
    Miriam Sagan

wakeful child
humming an old lullaby
granny dozes
    Neena Singh

laughter
in every language
ESL class
    Pat Davis

recovery
the dog who lost its bark
finds it again
    Paul Beech

slight of hand —
in response to being duped
hearty applause
    Paul Callus

hearing loss
silence flows
from his moving lips
    Pris Campbell

seaside concert
the roars of seals
during pianissimo
    Richard L. Matta

dad’s death day —
a mourning dove coos
just enough comfort
    Robert Epstein

gentle rain . . .
sliding into the weekend
on wet leaves
    Roberta Beach Jacobson

mockingbird
knows what you want to hear
cedar waxwing
    Ron Scully

zen garden
the flapping wings
of a butterfly
    Rosa Clement

dune path —
just before the surf’s boom
we smell it
    Ruth Yarrow

Quaker meeting
a lone fly’s hum the only break
in the heat
    Sue Norvell

hiccups all the things I can’t control
    Susan Burch

the swish of the brush
dad’s shoe propped up
on his shoeshine box
    Teresa Bakota Yatsko

handlebar mustache
the way he rolls
his r’s
    Theresa A. Cancro

not even twilight can contain this silence
    Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

no one hears
the ocean
in my ears
    Tom Clausen

noisy tourists
a praying monk
rolls his eyes
    Vandana Parashar

midsummer rain
echo of thunder
in the conch shell
    Vibeke Laier

noisy tractor
goes silent for a moment
the lark song
    Wieslaw Karlinski

sore throat
after six hours
protest march
    Wilda Morris

afternoon nap
my sweetheart and i practice
synchronized snoring
    Zee Zahava

one-line haiku

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


This month there is no particular theme. Each poem is just one line long (or even a single word!)  . . .  revealing meaning and depth in a deceptively simple form.


Contributing poets are from Australia, Brazil, Canada, China, Denmark, Ecuador, Ghana, India, Italy, Japan, Malaysia, Malta, Poland, Romania, Singapore, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, and the United States



pond’s ripple a koi’s breath
    Adjei Agyei-Baah

the sweetness of well water
    ai li

so many Alans clumped in the school lunch line
    Alan Bern

our packages delivered next door daily with a smile
    Alan Bern

fish tank the squared-off edge of leylandii
    Alan Peat

family of mice the night train briefly ruffles the snow
    Alan Summers

wind whisper the night shifts to owls
    Alan Summers

the recluse brings in another stray
    Alexis Rotella

smoke from the chimney scribbles across the sky
    Angela Giordano

too many words my dry throat
    Angela Giordano

on the sandcastle a lollipop
    Angiola Inglese

a slight smile in the corner of her mouth the wall still stands
    Ann Carter

among the clutter of the junk drawer dad’s old watch
    Barbara Sabol

sensory overload i count rotations of a ceiling fan
    Barbara Tate Sayre

in plain sight an artist paints the north wind
    Barbara Tate Sayre

collateral damage a felled tree’s shadow
    Barrie Levine

nightfall the last crossword clue
    Blue Waters

ice the riverbanks finally meet
    Brad Bennett

breaking my fall a haiku moment
    Brad Bennett

power failure still flicking light switches
    Bryan D. Cook

blackout the glow of grandma’s oil lamps
    Bryan D. Cook

off the beaten path the best poems
    Bryan Rickert

aging a rose falls apart on the counter top
    C. Robin Janning

dozing until the tea cools ignoring the news
    C. Robin Janning

steam train whistles midnight mourning
    Carol Judkins

raven on my shoulder first tattoo
    Carole MacRury

a little of you in me narcissus
    Carole MacRury

again but with more feeling spring breeze
    Caroline Skanne

forgetting to remember blue butterflies
    Caroline Skanne

the resonance of the bell deep inside
    Charles Trumbull

interstellar flight endless night
    Chen Xiaoou

misty lake     drifting between loon calls
    Chen-ou Liu

silence between us the phone lines sagging with May snow
    Chen-ou Liu

the waiter’s perfumed wipes extra tips
    Christina Chin

calligraphy practice on the blank squares new calendar
    Christina Chin

squirrel park      more squirrels than trees
    Christina Sng

honeysuckle pruning I dream again
    Christine L. Villa

tuning up bagpipes in a closed room
    Christine Wenk-Harrison

translating the parrot’s new rant unpronounceable
    Christine Wenk-Harrison

writing in bursts the rain
    Claire Vogel Camargo

meteor gone before i can say it
    Debbie Strange

in every boulder crevice a different green
    Deborah Burke Henderson

crow caw meditation broken
    Deborah P Kolodji

no moon tonight i walk alone
    Devoshruti Mandal

how     to hold     nothing
    Donna Fleischer

filled to the brim with emptiness origami cup
    Elena Malec

deep meditation a fly fell asleep on my forehead
    Elena Malec

blackbird’s song unfolding an old map inside me
    Florin C. Ciobica

ants forget wildflowers remember
    Frank Muller

what of the dust storm butterfly
    Geethanjali Rajan

stepping into the unknown     a rainbow
    Geethanjali Rajan

cutting an avocado the way we compromise
    Geoff Pope

my mirror is up to its old tricks
    Jack Goldman

mother’s grave the red roses she never liked
    Jackie Chou

beyond my fence a fawn watching me watching red apples
    Jill Lange

rosemary for remembrance and spaghetti sauce
    Jim Mazza

daily yoga practice weeding the garden
    Jim Mazza

heavy fog     mountains disappear
    Joan Leotta

windswept our words becoming tide
    Joanna Ashwell

rainfall skimming along with the dragonfly
    Joanna Ashwell

a strand of her hair curled on my pillow crescent moon
    Joe Sebastian

dawn greets me with questions
    Joel Savishinsky

footprints on the “no trespassing” sign
    John J. Dunphy

ginkgo leaves my niece parting her doll’s hair
    Joshua St. Claire

moose in the meadow     the cow watches
    Karla Linn Merrifield

labyrinth now I remember the night I was born
    Kath Abela Wilson

I dream my dead mother says she loves my latest poem
    Katya Sabaroff Taylor

within each morning glory its own dance
    kris moon

drum beats the mountain echoes boomerang
    Lakshmi Iyer

rain under my collar the things i forgot
    Laurinda Lind

your birthday i miss you we no longer speak
    Laurinda Lind

all the glass not found on the beach      cataracts
    Lorraine A Padden

noon shadow only my feet and the cat
    Lucia Cardillo

sinking into piped music delayed flight
    Madhuri Pillai

frost the weight i didn’t know i was carrying
    Marcie Wessels

invitation to write one-line haiku     bag of potato chips
    Margaret Fisher Squires

a smidge of this a dash of that used cookbook
    Margaret Walker

little by little mayflies zigzagzigging
    Marianne Paul

winter soup the swoop and dip of spoons
    Marietta McGregor

river’s edge all ducklings in a row
    Marilyn Ashbaugh

praying mantis looking the other way
    Marilyn Ashbaugh

lucid dreaming wild-eyed pansies glancing back and forth
    Mary Kendall

tangy lemon tart the child I was
    Maya Daneva

a car alarm     my raspy breath     flowers for your grave
    Michael Flanagan

love all his tennis whites as immaculate as ever
    Michael Gallagher

done meditating the Buddha statue winks
    Michael G. Smith

beachcombing every shell inhabited
    Mimi Foyle

tulips my heart opens first
    Mirela Brailean

love letters the different smell of each lie
    Mirela Brailean

a pile of stones     black teacups mended with gold epoxy
    Miriam Sagan

a peacock’s relentless cry your long absence
    Neena Singh

hummingbird in the mist seen unseen seen
    Neena Singh

mountaintop almost there almost there
    Pat Davis

feathers fly fresh seed in the feeder
    Paul Beech

another rejection a soap bubble pops
    Paul Callus

his touch my throat tightens
    Pris Campbell

orange blossoms the taste of morning drizzle
    Richard L. Matta

aloha plumeria the scent of her blouse
    Richard L. Matta

closing in on 68 the field mouse I am
    Robert Epstein

interpreter signs my pause
    Roberta Beach Jacobson

s      n      a      i      l
    Roberta Beach Jacobson

sweet memory my favorite doll belonged to my sister
    Rosa Clement

a question posed between night-blooming jasmine
    Seretta Martin

in the ocean starfish in starlight
    Seretta Martin

happy hour drinks at the birdbath
    Susan Burch

her tiny fingers trace the soft blue veins of grandma’s hand
    Teresa Yatsko

clear morning slipping on my rose quartz bracelet
    Theresa A. Cancro

oh how easily i soak up the folds of a primrose
    Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

intimacy like the way freesia exhales
    Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

dried spearmint steeping tea new mint greens a patch nearby
    Tina Wright

oh no the last short story so i read it real slow
    Tina Wright

the news my need to just keep walking
    Tom Clausen

puddle portal where does it all go
    Tom Clausen

spring cleaning a violet in mother’s old herbarium
    Vibeke Laier

after funeral moon fills the empty mirror
    Vibeke Laier

teacher’s funeral between loved ones the worst student
    Wieslaw Karlinski

snow melt fills the creek skipping stones
    Wilda Morris

somewhere in the catskill mountains a tree i once loved
    Zee Zahava