Welcome to the November 2017 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal
This month's theme is: family haiku
Poems have been received from Argentina, Australia, Brazil, Canada, China, Croatia, Ecuador, England, Ghana, India, Ireland, Italy, Nigeria, Pakistan, Philippines, Poland, Singapore, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, and the United States
family pictures
in each generation
a little height is added
- Adjei Agyei-Baah
grandma's dimple
her only treasure
she never passed on
- Adjei Agyei-Baah
birthday dinner
the joking uncle
has a dull knife
- Adrian Bouter
sunbeams
my mother's silence
and mine
- Agnes Eva Savich
family hike
leaves turned
leaves unturned
- Agnes Eva Savich
my aunt's garden
better than mine
soft grass
- Agnes Eva Savich
father gone
but his wristwatch
still ticking
- ai li
mother old on my birthday
- ai li
the chill of grandmother’s jade bangle
- ai li
water ripples
my son smiles
at his reflection
- Akor Emmanuel Oche
my father's farm
yellow maize leaves —
sign of drought
- Akor Emmanuel Oche
family meeting
delayed by phone calls
and high-pitched barking
- Alan Bern
mermaid
green strands streak my granddaughter's hair
one step from the sea
- Alan Catlin
mapping planets
my nephew quotes
from Star Wars
- Alan Summers
tying shoelaces
my mother taught
those life skills
- Alan Summers
photos in sepia
my parents regain
their sandcastle
- Alan Summers
i caress
my barbecue knife
gaucho uncle's gift
- Amauri Solon Ribeiro
sadness
dreaming of my son
all night long
- Amauri Solon Ribeiro
a kiss from
my daughter the taste of raspberries
- Andy McLellan
snow falls —
my newborn son
cries out for me
- Angela Giordano
a long journey —
the loving embrace
of sisters
- Angela Giordano
faded inscriptions
in family bible
names of the dead
- Ann Christine Tabaka
movie night
my children
run for the popcorn
- Ann Christine Tabaka
Aunt Effie's
hand-sewn quilt —
first cold day
- Anna Cates
siblings scattered wide
making dinner now for my
urban family
- Barbara Mink
dementia
grandpa talks to his
invisible friend
- Barbara Tate
Christmas eve
the unexpected essence
of Aunt Dorothy's perfume
- Barbara Tate
reflection
in the mirror I have a chat
with mother
- Barbara Tate
monsoon rains
even the instant noodles
taste like mother's
- Billy Antonio
ironing clothes —
the wrinkles on
mother's forehead
- Billy Antonio
father/son talk
the sound
of shifting clouds
- Billy Antonio
mother taught me
to notice the smaller things
shadows on the wall
- C. Robin Janning
sisters
passing like overhead clouds
never stopping
- C. Robin Janning
buds and leaves alongside
twigs and branches
cousins on my family tree
- Carol Dilworth
my son tells me
about the barley
in BashÅ's haiku
- Caroline Skanne
mum, mum, mum?
son just needs to know
i'm here
- Caroline Skanne
goddess pose
daughter shows me
the way
- Caroline Skanne
my daughter
draws a present
on the present
- Caroline Skanne
the departure gate
between mother and me
the Pacific
- Chen-ou Liu
a yell when granddaughter drops the spoon on my toe
- Christina Martin
my brother calls
the only thing we never say
I love you
- Christina Martin
forgotten loves
in mama's journal
pressed roses
- Christina Sng
summer camp
missing my children
on day one
- Christina Sng
my step-mom asks me
to be her facebook friend . . .
murky water
- Christine Villa
even our puppy
hides under the bed . . .
grandma's visit
- Christine Villa
granny's coiffed hair, dress,
stockings, pumps, and jewelry —
nursing home attire
- Claire Vogel Camargo
thanksgiving dinner
first holiday to mourn
my niece
- Claire Vogel Camargo
“now, when I were poor . . .”
the crisps me mum adds to her sandwich
complete the sentence
- Danny Blackwell
garden hose . . .
my son sprays
the heat
- Dave Read
snowdrifts . . .
grandpa’s hair falls
where it may
- Dave Read
late autumn —
my aunt on the creaking porch
calls to her lost cat
- David He
phone call from beyond
as I speak my uncle hears
my dead father's voice
David J. Kelly
birthday cake
my older sister's
bigger slice
- Debbi Antebi
bare branches
grandpa's hands
thinner than mine
- Debbi Antebi
dark cavern
glow-worms where
my sister was
- Debbie Strange
bedridden
my aunt only smiles
at birds
- Debbie Strange
empty apartment
we fold mother's shadow
into boxes
- Debbie Strange
green tomatoes
my son's new
silk tie
- Deborah P Kolodji
pumpkin pie
my mother whispers
it's sugarless
- Deborah P Kolodji
new mother-in-law
the thick skin
of an acorn squash
- Deborah P Kolodji
visiting sister
the past that is always
present
- Devin Harrison
my brother
knuckling pots in the kitchen
his early jazz years
- Devin Harrison
video memory
my baby's first steps
on the beach
- Elisa Allo
family dinner
under the table
ants line up for crumbs
- Emmanuel Jessie Kalusian
battlefront
in a tin box
grandfather's postcards
- Eufemia Griffo
my wife puts her hand in mine
like a butterfly
visiting a flower
- Frank Robinson
my sister-in-law says
her mother's now next to my mother
on the shelf
- Glenn Ingersoll
at the family reunion
almost nobody
I've ever met
- Glenn Ingersoll
watching tv —
daughter's doll wears
bridal veil
- Goran Gatalica
evening walk —
my stepfather steps
on my shadow
- Hifsa Ashraf
my grandfather's cane
came with him from the old world
it supported us
- Jack Goldman
when my mother died
my father made spaghetti
that tasted salty
- Jack Goldman
my talented aunt
wanted to be a singer
we kids thought she was
- Jack Goldman
the story of her life my daughter’s tattoos
- Jane Williams
my sister’s news I want to invent a ringtone for it
- Jane Williams
the doll’s clothes my mother sewed making ends meet
- Jane Willliams
monarch migration
the older sister
i never see
- Jennifer Hambrick
blood oranges
wearing my thick skin
to the family picnic
- Jennifer Hambrick
the old willow
and daddy's flowers
gone
- Jill Lange
mama's gone —
snow-laden hydrangeas
her funeral bells
- Jill Lange
our old photograph —
mother-daughter pinafores
with orange tiger lilies
- Jill Lange
lemon dream bars
falling apart
mother's cookbook
- Jo Balistreri
dad's rocker . . .
only the wind
swings now
- Jo Balistreri
warped door
in an old wall —
mother’s bent back
- Joanna M. Weston
a barn owl
flying into dusk
my mother’s last words
- John Hawkhead
bringing her teacup
back into balance
granny’s shaking hand
- John Hawkhead
red fingers
mom's mid-life passion
was pistachios
- Kath Abela Wilson
dad's departure
how he made our world
instant mashed potatoes
- Kath Abela Wilson
waiting for my son to call
I forget to call
my mother
- Kathy Kramer
my husband runs
while reciting sufi mantras . . .
comes home all sweaty
- Katya Sabaroff Taylor
grandma's diary
dusty skeletons
in the attic
- kjmunro
visiting mother-in-law —
not a dirty dish
in the kitchen
- kjmunro
graduation day . . .
mother thinks I am
still in the cradle
- Kumarendra Mallick
doing laundry
my son chases the worlds
in soap bubbles
- Kwaku Feni Adow
sister-in-law
in her happy place
burning leaves
- Lance Robertson
orange peels
crackling in the fireplace —
grandpa snoozes
- Lucia Cardillo
early autumn leaf
eaten by caterpillars —
my father's denials
- Lucia Fontana
snowing gently
on father’s grave —
that kind of light
- Lysa Collins
grandma knits
a baby shawl
she will never tuck
- Lysa Collins
my clumsiness
a twitch
on mother's lips
- Madhuri Pillai
first school day —
a loving note from my father
on the breakfast table
- Maria Laura Valente
old wool shawl —
grandmother's hug
even now
- Maria Laura Valente
police raid
grandpa runs a gambling ring
out of the kitchen
- Marianne Paul
rusty trike
my uncle nicknames me
Annie Oakley
- Marianne Paul
distant thunder —
not remembering why I'm afraid
of my father
- Marianne Paul
the two of us
telling ghost stories
my mother shivers
- Marietta McGregor
back from the hairdresser
grandmother's hair
with violet hues
- Marina Bellini
another autumn —
in the mud room Dad's boots
still drying
- Mark E. Brager
cloudspotting
my son's eyes
widen
- Mark E. Brager
Dad's lawnmower
all those twilights
cut short
- Mark E. Brager
my grandfather's smile
from beneath
the scarecrow's hat
- Marta Chocilowska
teen son
adjusting a new voice —
raven's song
- Martha Magenta
white butterfly . . .
the blank pages
of mum's diary
- Martha Magenta
grandma searches
for her reading glasses
dwindling sunset
- Martha Magenta
my brave big sister
stared multiple sclerosis
in the eye and laughed
- Marty Blue Waters
my scared big brother
born-again church showing him
heaven's only path
- Marty Blue Waters
sisters baking bread —
even the butter
can't wait
- Mary Kendall
the droop
of grandpa's shoulders —
weeping beech
- Mary Kendall
covering my head
ashamed now at my silence
father left us
- Michael Flanagan
dwindling days of August
I sort the lids and rubber seals
Ma stirs the cherries
- Michael Flanagan
we all said
we enjoyed
godmother's fruit salad
- Michael G. Smith
sis a cat
me a dog
gerbil compromise
- Michael G. Smith
of my three mothers
two are remembered with love
and one with longing
- Mimi Foyle
my mother's cousin
swept me off my feet at four
to dance the charleston
- Mimi Foyle
the most precious gift
born just before my birthday
grand-daughter roselle
- Mimi Foyle
old-age stories
her music box plays three waltzes
over and over
- Nancy Shires
tall skinny stranger
i greet the coatrack
wearing mom’s hat
- Nancy Shires
in my father's book
yellowed by the years
a pressed daisy
- Nina Kovacic
remembering
every outfit . . .
mom's button box
- Pat Davis
florida beach house
the maine rocks
on auntie's table
- Pat Davis
nursing home
mother still elegant . . .
in sleep
- Pat Davis
father and daughter
wedding dance together . . .
the polka tells our story
- Pat Geyer
garden buddha smiles —
my grandchild places white stones
in an open palm
- Peter Ladley
grandson falls asleep
atop my shoulders —
dreaming of horse rides?
- Peter Ladley
water boiling
my father strips garden corn
on the run
- Pris Campbell
decluttering day
mother's best blouse clutched tight
in my lap
- Pris Campbell
empty in-box
the childhood cousin I thought
would dream on with me
- Pris Campbell
scent of tobacco
on a passing stranger
my uncle's pipe
- Rachel Sutcliffe
snowed in
shaking the moths
off grandmother’s shawl
- Rachel Sutcliffe
cold winds
when father first taught me
to light a fire
- Rachel Sutcliffe
prodigal son
your room's now a museum
where nothing has been moved
- Ron Scully
birthday party
nobody asks how old
my aunt is
- Rosa Clement
making jam
my mother's mind needs time
to wander
- Rosa Clement
leaping from the car
more afraid of a spider
than my father’s wrath
- Scott Wiggerman
purple glow
on the mountains
my parents hold hands
- Scott Wiggerman
in dewdrops
my daughter cartwheels
across the lawn
- Simon Hanson
my son bemused —
dark side of the moon
on vinyl
- Simon Hanson
family album
my father as a boy
with my son’s smile
- Simon Hanson
warm sun on my back —
the way Dad always left
his hat by the door
- Theresa A. Cancro
milking at sunrise —
I recall
mom's warm hands
- Theresa A. Cancro
at the altar
the tremble
of daddy’s hand
- Tia Haynes
honeydew
the memory
of mother’s perfume
- Tia Haynes
squiggles on paper
my niece says
it's a dinosaur
- Tiffany Shaw-Diaz
sisters
after all these years
friends
- Tiffany Shaw-Diaz
spring cleaning
the first violets in
mother's herbarium
- Vibeke Laier
spring silence
i still see mother's dress
on the washing line
- Vibeke Laier
still cold
my sister's new dolls
sitting in the window
- Vibeke Laier
listen
our laughter in this old photograph
my sister and me
- Zee Zahava
in another time zone my mother also washes her hair
- Zee Zahava
my eyes deceive me . . .
i thought i saw grandma
crossing the street today
- Zee Zahava
familiar view
forget-me-nots
on my grandmother's apron
- Zuzanna Truchlewska
