Tuesday, June 1, 2021

sound / no sound

 Welcome to the June 2021 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal.

The theme of this month’s collection is sound (and the absence of sound).

Poems arrived from Australia, Brazil, Canada, Denmark, Ecuador, Ghana, India, Italy, Japan, Malaysia, New Zealand, Pakistan, Poland, Romania, Singapore, Switzerland, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, and the United States

golden maize field . . .
a lone scarecrow puffs
in the wind
    Adjei Agyei-Baah

mime artist
i can hear
his laughter
    ai li

i am bursting balloons
    ai li

empty house
old floorboards
    ai li

desert canyon
the endless whisper
of blowing sand
    Al W Gallia

one loud fly in the
Church of Santo Stefano
finally comes to rest
    Alan Bern

ongoing opera
next door
    Alexis Rotella

soccer stadium trembles
in unison the mob cries
— goal!
    Amauri Solon

silence . . .
in my drawing
no sign of rain
    Ana Drobot

sultry night —
the noise of the city
enters my bedroom
    Angela Giordano

my neighbors keep
their car engines running
no! it’s the cicadas’ song
    Antonia Matthew

ringing phone
my granddaughter calls
with one more joke
    Barbara Kaufmann

he learns to shift
into fifth gear
prayer beads click
    Barbara Sabol

the butcher knife slices
a watermelon
    Barbara Sabol

the old bookstore
the silence of his absence
dusty thoughts
    Barbara Tate

in the shallows
polliwogs dart silently
from my shadow
    Barbara Tate

and then the sound
of an ice cream truck
— I pat my pockets
    Bill Waters

low battery —
trying to silence
the wrong smoke alarm
    Bill Waters

visual drama
tv sound turned off
    Blue Waters

too late to practice . . .
the mouthpiece alone
becomes my horn
    Blue Waters

song sparrows
my journal pages
fill with poems
    Brad Bennett

her soup from a spoon —
our only date
    Bryan Rickert

wildflower breeze
the silent dance
of butterflies
    Bryan Rickert

radio whispers
keep me company
all day
    C. Robin Janning

mocking bird
at the car wash hip hopping
to the radio
    Carole Johnston

violets whisper
haiku to the grass
cool evening
    Carole Johnston

before & after
the funeral
blackbird song
    Caroline Skanne

nearly full moon
tuning the guitar
by ear
    Caroline Skanne

neighbors bickering
I turn up the volume
of my inner voice
    Chen-ou Liu

deep autumn . . .
the cacophony
of leaf blowers
    Chen-ou Liu

distant hum
deep in the rainforest
illegal logging
    Christina Chin

pepper plants
out on the patio
the soft flip of their leaves
    Christina Martin

pitch black
my daughter calls out
    Christina Sng

last breath
the still wind
    Christina Sng

my sobs
as I stroke her paws
day moon
    Claire Vogel Camargo

it is going to rain
wind chime
    Daniela Misso

red embers
crackle in the fireplace . . .
one more page
    Daniela Misso

days shorten
the clatter of dried peas
in a blackened pot
    Debbie Strange

glacial stare the way we retreat into ourselves
    Debbie Strange

distant bark
a murmuration of sheep
moves as one
    Debbie Strange

singing to the myrtle
its branches sway rhythmically
no shame in being off key
    Deborah Burke Henderson

magnolia blossoms fall
chimes ring softly and more softly . . .
for my sister
    Deborah Burke Henderson

a tiny spider
in the shower
her tarantula scream    
    Deborah P Kolodji

illegal fireworks
explode the night
wolf moon
    Deborah P Kolodji

from behind a mask . . .
her eyes
    Donna Fleischer

swimming lessons —
children’s giggles
in the locker room
    Elisa Allo

the silence
between us
    Eufemia Griffo

mosquito night
slapping myself
in my sleep
    Florin C. Ciobica

harvest season —
the tinkle of bells
from a decorated ox
    Geethanjali Rajan

the long creak
of the garden gate
    Geethanjali Rajan

from flower to flower
to my ear
the honeybee
    Glenn Ingersoll

in the wind . . .

the busker’s rolling tobacco tin
    Helen Buckingham

owl’s hoot
through a scarecrow’s mouth
old family farm
    Hifsa Ashraf

a quiet morning
violets sparkle with dew
the sun is rising
    Isabelle Loverro

winter morning
my daydream cut
by a crow’s caw
    Jackie Chou

the clonk of pool balls
in the group home lounge
spring melancholy
    Jackie Chou

in a hurry
grocery shopping —
the squeaky cart
    Jill Lange

library entrance
the lapping tongues of puppies
at a silver bowl
    Jo Balistreri

egrets first light thump of the newspaper
    Jo Balistreri

midnight crash
of an oriole feeder
jelly-faced raccoons
    Jo Balistreri

silent snails
leave an easy trail
to follow
    Joan Leotta

lined up at the shoreline
listening to waves
    Joan Leotta

an outdoor concert
which is sweeter
the flute or bird song?
    Joan McNerney

this too
could be our song
clock chimes
    Joanna Ashwell

dandelion burrs
carrying the rhythm
of thunder
    Joanna Ashwell

I heard something
in the turning tide
    Joanna Ashwell

still-life art class
drawn by the fruit bowl
buzzing flies
    John J. Dunphy

past bedtime
deciding not to interrupt
their laughter
    Julie Bloss Kelsey

not the call
I’m expecting —
    Julie Bloss Kelsey

my zaghareeting
the loo~loo~loo I learned
from my daughter
    Kath Abela Wilson

zills on my fingers
and bells on my toes
my egyptian mama
    Kath Abela Wilson

ticking kitchen clock
disturbs my Scrabble focus
where to put my Q
    Katya Sabaroff Taylor

as if they were birds . . .
tiny river frogs
    kris moon

a crackling of paper . . .
the cat sidesteps
across the desk
    kris moon

yellow warbler
the real bird singing
or my ringtone
    Kristen Lindquist

spring snow
me and a titmouse
both kind of whiny
    Kristen Lindquist

loud sneeze
the sleeping child's
half-open eyes
    Lakshmi Iyer

buzzing bees . . .
scent of lavender
on my hands
    Lucia Cardillo

late night call
a voice from my childhood
still sounds the same
    Madhuri Pillai

Mother’s Day
a swan warns
its cygnets
    Marietta McGregor

one chorister
wavers on a C
    Marietta McGregor

steady beat
hacky sacks jump
into spring
    Marilyn Ashbaugh

the sizzle of popsicles
dripping on pavement
    Marilyn Ashbaugh

creaking of swings
three generations
reach for the stars
    Marilyn Ashbaugh

a violet haze
of river dawn —
oars in the water
    Marilyn Fleming

endless drought
across barren plains
the curlew’s mourning cry
    Marilyn Humbert

noonday heat
deep in the valley the ringing
of an axe
    Mark Miller

so quiet
the moon climbs
a roof
    Marta Chocilowska

critical conversation
in my head
dad’s chopping wood
    Maya Daneva

lip liner
helping my husband
read my lips
    Maya Daneva

meditation bell
I wake
    Michael G. Smith

again I ask
my widowed mom
to change her phone message
    Michael G. Smith

treebuds bursting
along the school fence
crack of ball and bat
    Michael G. Smith

biking down the block
playing card clipped to my wheels
feeling pretty smug
    Mimi Foyle

ping! ping! ping! ping! ping!
dozens of spoons beat nickels
primary school fad
    Mimi Foyle

first thunder —
a few missed notes
in lark’s song
    Mirela Brailean

whistling tea kettle
that turned into a badger —
what I thought was true
    Miriam Sagan

better than
small talk —
monarch butterflies
    Miriam Sagan

a dry sound
in drought
    Miriam Sagan

dad's harmonica
a train's whistle
in the distance
    Pat Davis

snowy woods
where birds hide
their song
    Pat Davis

a schoolboy gymnast
I climb the long rope
to ping the brass bell
    Paul Beech

this loneliness . . .
the blinds parted just enough
to hear the rain    
    Pragya Vishnoi

dragonfly night the hum of the refrigerator
    Pragya Vishnoi

a calf’s moo
nuzzling its mother’s neck
parting fog
    Pragya Vishnoi

dance recital
we clatter across the stage
for captive moms
    Pris Campbell

howling snow
seeks out the last crack
garage door open
    Ron Scully

yoga lesson
a magpie violates
the rule of silence
    Rosa Clement

a bird sings
from my clothes line —
I can wait
    Rosa Clement

the boy frees the teddy bear
from a hug
    Rosa Clement

we huddle around the trail map
mosquito whine
    Ruth Yarrow

turnip seeds slither
into the paper envelope
grampa’s whisper
    Ruth Yarrow

parrot squawks
teaching first child
to talk
    Sherry Grant

shore wash
the evening whispers
of pebbles and shells
    Simon Hanson

anxiety my feet conduct a symphony
    Susan Burch

giant winter sky
the peal of church bells
gives way to tinnitus
    Ted Sherman

golden evening
the sound-system
ripples my cider
    Ted Sherman

warm wool sweater . . .
familiar scratches
on the old 45
    Theresa A. Cancro

in the ripple of a puddle
the full moon
    Theresa A. Cancro

children’s giggles . . .
soft moss
between my toes
    Theresa A. Cancro

a robin then a wren
oh how i love
this sticky dawn
    Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

she plays
a song from childhood
out-of-tune piano
    Tom Bierovic

barking back
at the neighbor's dog
lost in translation
    Tom Bierovic

by myself
working out what
not to say
    Tom Clausen

at my parents’ stone
I whisper
you brought me here
    Tom Clausen

spring wind —
a kid in the neighborhood
has a new whistle
    Tom Clausen

copper kettle
the salty scent of corn
    Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

creaks and squeaks
my knees synchronize
with the floorboards
    Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

summer music
holding a conch shell
to my ear
    Vibeke Laier

new postage stamp
in my collection
    Wieslaw Karlinski

leaky muffler
instead of alarm clock
first morning bus
    Wieslaw Karlinski

outdoor graduation
wind ensemble’s notes
blown away
    Wilda Morris

still longing
for grandmother’s voice
after all these years
    Wilda Morris

rain all day long
the sound of sorrow
we cuddle up
    Yvonne Fisher

what is the sound of purple?
my dear sister
it is your deepest laugh
    Zee Zahava