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
thickening
- 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
fussing
- 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
snowflakes
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
mid-afternoon
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
highrise
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
hallelujah!
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
nothing
- Zee Zahava
falling leaves
among Japanese signs
my haiku
- Zuza Truchlewska
