Welcome to the January 2021 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal
“How did you experience the year 2020?” That is the question I posed to a number of haiku poets. Here are some of their responses … a collective portrait of the ordinary, as well as the extraordinary, moments from the year that has recently ended.
Poems arrived from Australia, Brazil, Canada, England, Japan, the Philippines, Poland, Singapore, Switzerland, the United Kingdom, and the United States
a fly
on jam
my day begins
ai li
learning to cross arms
again
and hug myself
Alan Bern
overgrown bamboo the cat masks up
Alan Summers
rainy thursday
no flowers, no meetings
the year ends
Amauri Solon
leaves soften
the wind
almost lilac time
Anne Elise Burgevin
on my walk I greet
my neighbor’s goats and hens
the goats stare from their strange eyes
Antonia Matthew
sunrise
I forgot to remember
to forget
Barbara Tate
winter night
— from out of our wreath
a wren
Bill Waters
quarantine days
no one to chase away
the pigeons
Billy Antonio
apple blossoms
a child chalks hello
on her friend’s stoop
Brad Bennett
winter again
I read poetry and
remember
C. Robin Janning
days rewind
a furious music box
in a minor key
Carole Johnston
the edge
of winter twilight . . .
masked old man
Chen-ou Liu
wearing old glasses
optometrist
not open
Christina Martin
movie night
every night
lockdown
Christina Sng
doggy day care closed
sophie barks me away
from the computer
Claire Vogel Camargo
solo hike
I lose track of myself
in the forest
Debbie Strange
zoom party
guests arrive
half-dressed
Deborah P Kolodji
the DNA
of distant summers
shared in waves
Helen Buckingham
no cicada buzzes
around the red cloister . . .
this ancient temple
Hideo Suzuki
last mile
a silver thermos
of hot apple cider
Huck Tritsch
leaves masquerading
as birds on snowy branches
deceive me once more
Jack Goldman
online
meeting more people
I will never meet
Jane Williams
longing for a time
when there isn’t so much
longing
Jim Mazza
in winter’s deep freeze
the green thrust of amaryllis
kitchen table
Jo Balistreri
dark clouds
smudged
against grey sky
Joan McNerney
bedroom quarantine —
I rearrange the furniture
in my mind
Julie Bloss Kelsey
inventing
poinsettia pose
zoom yoga
Kath Abela Wilson
an ordinary wednesday
except for these purple leaves
and the burial of my father
Kathleen Kramer
sheltering in place
my blonde hair
turns white
Marianne Paul
one by one
friends become avatars
self-isolation
Marietta McGregor
hospital garden
a day lily opens
to the light
Mark Miller
lone birthday
the skin of party balloons
so thin
Marta Chocilowska
isolation my inner landscape
Olivier Schopfer
doing jigsaws by myself
my sister’s chair
empty this year
Sue Norvell
ipad screen . . .
my fingerprint across
the face of the moon
Theresa A. Cancro
dust gathers
for once i am
fine with that
Tiffany Shaw-Diaz
crab apples in bloom
a masked man tells me they
bring tennessee warblers
Tina Wright
the sight
of people
turning away
Tom Clausen
waiting for snow to arrive
that’s how much i miss
having company
Zee Zahava
