brass bell: a haiku journal: 2021

Wednesday, December 1, 2021

night haiku — from sunset to sunrise

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

The theme this month is night.

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

torn net . . .
a mosquito takes half
of my night
   Adjei Agyei-Baah

asleep
on the lawn
under venus
   ai li

dream of a song
that devours itself
letter-by-letter nightly
   Alan Bern

silent night
the high street strung
with last year’s stars
   Alan Peat

35 light-years wide the Pleiades picks out my torch
   Alan Summers

stars
I wish I were
free to fall
   Alexis Rotella

foggy night
I draw the moon
on the train’s window
   Ana Drobot

night scribbling
waiting for my baby
to sleep
   Angela Giordano

rainy night
the rhythmic drip
of the faucet
   Angiola Inglese

in the dark
remembering to replace
the porch light
   Barbara Sabol

sleeper seats
brushed velvet
in the long blue night
   Barrie Levine

you come and go
as you please . . .
fickle moon
   Bill Waters

atop leafless trees
staring into the night
a parliament of owls
   Blue Waters

a mouthful
of chocolate cake
longest night
   Brad Bennett

crossword puzzles
and ice-cream wrappers
insomniac
   Bryan Cook

finals week
the all-nighter
of crickets
   Bryan Rickert

another cold night
echoing sound of wind chimes
up and down the street
   C. Robin Janning

midnight
Deimos and Phobos
encircle
   C.R. Harper

lights out
on the night train
melancholy moon
   Carol Judkins

barking at
the hooligan moon
rebel dog
   Carole Johnston

city blackout
we map our favorite
constellations
   Carole MacRury

howling wind
a child sings
herself to sleep
   Caroline Skanne

chill March night
the shrill whistle
of the teapot
   Charles Trumbull

jump shots
on a broken hoop . . .
late night drizzle
   Chen-ou Liu

footsteps
wooden clogs
night market
   Christina Chin

late night
my cat and I prowl
for intruders
   Christina Sng

clouds in a glass of beer one-night stand
   Christine L. Villa

the night hours
when fever peaks
and breaks
   Claire Vogel Camargo

moonlight
between shores a swan
ripples the silence
   Dan Iulian

moonless night
a cat’s shadow
lost in fog
   Daniela Misso

moonlight glints
on a trace of silver
a snail’s journey
   Deborah Burke Henderson

as the sun sets I rest
   Edna S. Brown

winter solitude
the comfort of tiny stars
on a dark night
   Eufemia Griffo

night train
the moon travels
without a ticket
   Florin C. Ciobica

in the earth’s shadow Buddha’s moon
   Geethanjali Rajan

night chill
counting the holes
in my socks
   Hifsa Ashraf

in college i roomed
with a young astronomer
impatient for night
   Jack Goldman

autumn moon
that first bite
of bean paste
   Jackie Chou

fingers
tracing the dipper
one large one small
   Janice Doppler

bedtime stories
deep in closet shadows
the bogeyman waits
   Jay Friedenberg

that summer night
on the lakeshore
counting shooting stars
   Jill Lange

sleepless sunday night
garbage trucks compete
with street sweepers
   Jim Mazza

the owl’s wings a midnight ostinato
   Jo Balistreri

three a.m.
summer and winter
I wake to darkness
   Joan Leotta

you and I
so much to say
the night rain
   Joanna Ashwell

moonless night
father and son converse
in monosyllables
   Joe Sebastian

our yard’s sundial
several hours off
in moonlight
   John J. Dunphy

moonless night
walking the trail
I stumble over a root
   Jorge Giallorenzi

a winged box kite:
the night his soul
flew free . . .
   Julie Bloss Kelsey

unwrapping
the night sky
Milky Way
   Karen Harvey

midnight bloom viewing
we invite the neighbors
to a pajama party
   Kath Abela Wilson

I don’t need a lamp
tonight’s moon reveals my pen
moving on the page
   Katya Sabaroff Taylor

new moon
a long night alone
in the guest room
   Kristen Lindquist

night . . .
owls waiting their turn
to hoot at enemies
   Lakshmi Iyer

sleepless grandma weaves a long story into my scarf
   Laughing waters

recurring dream
again i don’t
save anyone
   Laurinda Lind

this indigo night
I dig into
another crime novel
   Lorraine Padden

autumn night
only the moon’s smile
at the window
   Lucia Cardillo

rooftop shenanigans
keeping me awake
neighborhood possums
   Madhuri Pillai

midnight blue mascara on his shirt
   Margaret Walker

fado music
permeates the air
mournful moon
   Marilyn Fleming

midnight stroll
my feet scattering
starlight
   Marilyn Humbert

late night plaza
a red-and-white suit
on the empty throne
   Mark Miller

lonely night
warming herself up
by the kettle
   Marta Chocilowska

night flight
the toddler’s effort to touch
the stars
   Maya Daneva

in the darkness our candle reveals the soft rain
   Michael Flanagan

tipple at sundown
darkness creeping up
the tilted glass
   Michael Gallagher

last train
to the airport
red-eye flight
   Michael G. Smith

nocturnal weather
cloudy with a chance of stars
frogs sing about sex
   Mimi Foyle

campfire
a few sparks
in Ursa Major
   Mirela Brailean

midnight phantom
beside the bed —
luminescent moth
   Nancy Shires

winter chill
the drag of his slippers
into the night
   Neena Singh

twilight
a fading constellation
of hot air balloons
   Pat Davis

ball lightning
stitching the black night blue . . .
a smell of sulphur
   Paul Beech

odes to the moon
crumpled paper
fills the floor
   Pris Campbell

night walk . . .
my shifty shadow
sole companion
   Richard L. Matta

late night
I let the spider sleep
in the bathroom
   Rosa Clement

binoculars:
earth’s shadow on the moon
trembling
   Ruth Yarrow

before sunrise
your side of the bed
still cold
   Sherry Grant

night in Yosemite stars elbow each other for room in the summer sky
   Sue Norvell

chicken pox explosion
ten itchy girls
at a sleepover party
   Teresa Bakota Yatsko

gibbous moon
a new
old-age spot
   Theresa A. Cancro

my late wife knew the
constellations but now
night skies are only stars
   Tina Wright

sleeping alone my inner night light
   Tom Clausen

midnight sky
we connect the stars
to form our initials
   Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

half moon
the silence of
a lost letter
   Vibeke Laier

full moon
illuminates the garden
yesterday’s laundry
   Wieslaw Karlinski

awakened in the night
by his snoring . . .
thankful he is alive
   Wilda Morris

night falls early
all dressed up
nowhere to go
   Yvonne Fisher

nearly dawn
this old house belches
and goes back to sleep
   Zee Zahava

Monday, November 1, 2021

body haiku

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

The theme this month is body haiku

Contributing poets are from Argentina, Australia, Brazil, Bulgaria, Canada, Denmark, Ecuador, Ghana, India, Italy, Japan, Malaysia, New Zealand, Pakistan, Poland, Romania, Singapore, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, and the United States

lazy afternoon
grandpa lets us play
with his Adam’s apple
   Adjei Agyei-Baah

eye contact
he was saying
we are kindred
   ai li

thinking about seeds in my dry hand the last ones blow off
   Alan Bern

half moon pose —
everyone laughs
at the wobbling leg
   Alan Peat

cloud-entangled bedclothes a secret of arms and legs night shining
   Alan Summers

shoulder to shoulder
strangers enter the subway
unmasked
   Alexis Rotella

beating hearts our first night together
   Ana Drobot

pumpkin cream
sweet loneliness
on my tongue
   Angela Giordano

bee sting —
on my aching hand
fresh ginger
   Angiola Inglese

the ditch after a summer rain red mud oozing between my toes
   Ann Carter

ringing doorbell
mother pinches my cheeks
before a first date
   Barbara Kaufmann

pile of bathing suits —
tossing her body
to the fitting room floor
   Barrie Levine

flip-flops in October —
the sparkle of
her toenails
   Bill Waters

euphonium
my lips on the mouthpiece
breath becomes music
   Blue Waters

lamplight yellows my midnight skin
   Brad Bennett

pebble beach
my toes clutching
infinity’s edge
   Bryan Rickert

these feet
slow to remember the dance . . .
hesitate
   C. Robin Janning

rising
bread dough —
my belly fat
   Carol Judkins

death poem . . .
all my scars
come with me
   Carole MacRury

dusklight
looking for the pen
behind my ear
   Caroline Skanne

turning up her nose
at the dog
turning up his leg
   Charles Trumbull

end of summer
the scent of ocean
still in her hair
   Chen-ou Liu

children
imitate tattoo
henna on their toes
   Christina Chin

49th birthday
barely enough hair
for a ponytail
   Christina Sng

a little fairy
with pink glitter on her face
first doorbell ring
   Claire Vogel Camargo

autumn sky
filling my eyes
with clouds
   Daniela Misso

cheek to cheek        Valentine’s Day tango
   Deborah Burke Henderson

fanning out
our fingers
nail salon
   Deborah P Kolodji

flea market
I constantly scratch
my beard
   Florin C. Ciobica

doctor’s visit
grandma’s frail fingers
tighten on my wrist
   Geethanjali Rajan

first baking —
on the kitchen window
her moonlit handprints
   Hifsa Ashraf

first date
he notices the dirt
under my nails
   Jackie Chou

river bend
the smooth curve of stone
against my palm
   Jay Friedenberg

awakening to warmth
little cat is curled
against my back
   Jill Lange

pulling in my belly
hurts my back —
better round than achy
   Jim Mazza

my nose rejects
your perfume
forgive me as I change seats
   Joan Leotta

odd how my
fingernails
curl under
   Joan McNerney

if only
my shadow’s finger
could link with another
   Joanna Ashwell

barefoot in the creek —
minnows scatter
under the rocks
   Joe Sebastian

VA hospital
two veterans arm-wrestle
with prosthetic limbs
   John J. Dunphy

her bent back —
grandmother blows out
her birthday candles
   Jorge Giallorenzi

how I learned
to wiggle my nose
our pet rabbit
   Kath Abela Wilson

purple-red —
the bruise on my hand
confirms my years
   Kathleen Kramer

my old lap cat
now leans against my bare feet
rubbing her own ears
   Katya Sabaroff Taylor

autumn deepens
i see the world
in a friend’s eyes
   kris moon

saltwater farm
the wind in my hair
when I was a horse
   Kristen Lindquist

systole & diastole . . .
heart beats in pace
with the clock’s tick
   Lakshmi Iyer

my thefts, age three
Mounds bar in one hand
Baby Ruth in the other
   Laurinda Lind

bone scan
a long smile detected
in the office light
   Lovette Carter

autumn photo . . .
with my fingers I caress
his memory
   Lucia Cardillo

lying again the twitch in his eye
   Madhuri Pillai

eyelids droop
near the end
of the chapter
   Margaret Walker

small act of kindness
a doctor stoops
to pull socks on my feet
   Marianne Paul

eightieth birthday
my aunt dyes her hair
with cold black tea
   Marietta McGregor

head over heels sakura
   Marilyn Ashbaugh

haiku dream —
fingers tapping
the bed sheet
   Marilyn Fleming

the curve
in his spine weeding
sickle moon
   Marilyn Humbert

lonely vacation
a new supply of back scratchers
from the gift shop
   Marta Chocilowska

long to-do list
first I stretch
my shoulders
   Maya Daneva

your cold feet on a winter’s night I miss the most
   Michael Flanagan

vaccine shot
sore arm
the leaves pile up
   Michael G. Smith

a miracle
to walk freely on both legs
unencumbered
   Mimi Foyle

the steady beat of my heart
up to the top —
mountain view
   Mirela Brailean

around my neck
papa’s old muffler
winter warmth
   Neena Singh

wrinkle free
her ninety-year-old
smile
   Pat Davis

my apprentice days
in a tough trade —
skinned knuckles
   Paul Beech

broken shoulder
the embarrassment
of bathroom visits
   Pris Campbell

flowery dress
a butterfly lands
on my right arm
   Rosa Clement

turning
my deaf ear to the pillow
sudden robin song
   Ruth Yarrow

snoring —
the waves rise
on dad’s belly
   Sherry Grant

vision loss
another traffic camera
I thought was a bird
   Susan Burch

gnarled fingers tracing gold kintsugi
   Theresa A. Cancro

upon my eyelashes
the remnants
of forgotten stars
   Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

my friend in her eighties
cursing her thumbs
adjusting her bike helmet
   Tina Wright

ice cream jingle
untangling her feet
from a jump rope
   Tom Bierovic

my tongue
explores the space
missing tooth
   Tom Clausen

wellness exam
the doctor says
I lack a funny bone
   Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

mother’s herbarium
touching the first violet with
my fingertips
   Vibeke Laier

gloves
hide her scarred hands —
first snow
   Vladislav Hristov

hot sand
from hand to hand
summer passes
   Wieslaw Karlinski

itchy nose
he sneezes
himself awake
   Wilda Morris

your hands
so much like my grandmother’s hands . . .
i fell in love with you
   Zee Zahava

Friday, October 1, 2021

numbers

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

The theme this month is numbers.

Contributing poets are from Argentina, Australia, Brazil, Canada, Denmark, Ecuador, Ghana, India, Indonesia, Italy, Japan, Malaysia, New Zealand, Pakistan, Poland, Romania, Singapore, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, and the United States

dark river
2 beavers play
in the moon spot
   Adjei Agyei-Baah

spring migration
2 herons hurry
to catch up
   Adjei Agyei-Baah

1967
a flower child
asleep in the meadow
   ai li

sisters
the 2 of us
so unlike mother
   ai li

3 trees
behind
3 trees
   Alan Bern

3 old trees
a bald man scratches
his brow
   Alan Bern

434 species of seabird
1 stole
my sandwich
   Alan Peat

his stick and her arm
2 old trees
leaning together
   Alan Peat

50 percent
of my happiness —
your smile
   Ana Drobot

the clock strikes 12
my daughter celebrates
her 24th birthday
   Angela Giordano

autumn wind
1 gray hair falls
with the leaves
   Angela Giordano

convalescence —
2 steps with butterflies
in the tall grass
   Angiola Inglese

37 years
all that changes is
our hair color
   Ann Carter

I name them once again
Kate John Mike Fran Tom
I really raised all 5?
   Antonia Matthew

3 shakes of chili powder
and 2 blankets —
first frost
   Barbara Sabol

interstate 15
on my way to Vegas
wondering who I’ll be
   Barbara Tate

afternoon shadow
his only chance to be
6 feet tall
   Barbara Tate

at the shelter
love at first sight I adopt
2 kittens
   Barbara Tate

1980s attire
the weight
of shoulder pads
   Barrie Levine

childhood phone #
LI 3-3033
wired in me
   Barrie Levine

the countless times
i dream of you
my best 40 years
   Barrie Levine

that perilous switch
on the 8 and 9 . . .
hopscotch grid
   Barrie Levine

6 p.m.
this morning’s tea
cold in the cup
   Bill Waters

my 74th birthday
the crossword puzzle
easily solved
   Blue Waters

10 stoplights long
my daughter’s rambling
apology
   Bryan Rickert

all-day hike
5 miles in we find
our silence
   Bryan Rickert

20th anniversary
the way she dresses up
the leftovers
   Bryan Rickert

1/2 off
navigating
the aisles
   C.R. Harper

college professor
wraps up his quarter-hour talk
in 50 minutes
   Charles Trumbull

in the back 40
60 years
of automotive history
   Charles Trumbull

3.4 seconds
between each of her
snores
   Charles Trumbull

2 for 1 . . . 3 for 1
the melon vendor’s mask
under his chin
   Chen-ou Liu

hush of early snow
1 more white lie
added to her complaints
   Chen-ou Liu

2 folded hands
the praying mantis
quietly preys
   Christina Chin

late bloomers
in the new jade vase
7 autumn roses
   Christina Chin

9 p.m. i tap
the nooks and crannies
where crickets chirp
   Christina Chin

spider —
dewdrops on
its 500th web
   Christina Martin

crick in my neck —
a small tear
on page 125
   Christina Martin

age 7
I wonder
why I exist
   Christina Sng

I keep to
even numbers
10 ear piercings
   Christina Sng

what have I
gotten myself into
1200 piece jigsaw
   Christina Sng

bedtime after
our evening walk
the dog’s 2 circles
   Claire Camargo

inside a pocket
of an old Carnival dress . . .
1,000 lire
   Daniela Misso

our deaf Dalmatian more than 101 negative spaces
   Debbie Strange

miniature forest
in a clump of moss . . .
1 red berry
   Deborah Burke Henderson

dry run
3 big yellow buses
practice their routes
   Deborah Burke Henderson

ocean spray
4 sets of sneakers
left on the beach
   Deborah P Kolodji

cactus garden
600,000 needles reflected
in the afternoon sun
   Deborah P Kolodji

on the porch
3 peanut shells
wet with squirrel spit
   Glenn Ingersoll

sardines:
omega-3
killer key
   Helen Buckingham

evening timepass
refilling the pill box
in 2 hours
   Hifsa Ashraf

lemon water
pondering the weight
of 5 calories
   Jackie Chou

crow caw
pressing the walk button
for the 5th time
   Jackie Chou

birthday email from mom
counting the 10 extra
exclamation marks
   Jay Friedenberg

old barn
the weathered wood
of 100 seasons
   Jay Friedenberg

steady rain
2 lovers
1 umbrella
   Jay Friedenberg

today . . .
2 perfect pumpkins
pick me
   Jill Lange

a yard full of trees
and no 2 spaced
to hold a hammock
   Jill Lange

my mother has fallen again
now even 1 step
is too many
   Jim Mazza

23 missed calls —
new cell phone
user error
   Jim Mazza

in the spiral
of the antique rose
1 blue damselfly
   Jo Balistreri

all 206 bones ache —
colorful leaves
cold rain
   Joan Leotta

eyes beginning
to droop . . . it must
be 9 p.m.
   Joan McNerney

“1 more thing”
I asked as the doctor
hurried away
   Joan McNerney

he loves me
he loves me not
1 petal remaining
   Joanna Ashwell

0347
his lucky lottery number
the time of his father’s death
   John J. Dunphy

-248
I show my wife
our checking account balance
   John J. Dunphy

claff . . . claff . . . claff . . .
slowly 2 horses
cross the river
   Jorge Alberto Giallorenzi

noon
2 sparrows taking a sand bath
in a flower pot
   Julia Guzman

4 years ago
at a truck stop in Kansas . . .
5 plastic palm trees
   Julie Bloss Kelsey

in the basket
marked “lonely” . . .
67 unmatched socks
   Julie Bloss Kelsey

lucky peace doves
how mother folded
her $2 bills
   Kath Abela Wilson

2021
the planetary year of
get well soon
   Kath Abela Wilson

at the bottom of my purse
2 tubes of lipstick
unused since i retired
   Kathleen Kramer

1940s photograph
my mother
sultry smoky beautiful
   Kathleen Kramer

3 teeth remaining
grandma takes her time
with the chicken wing
   Kathleen Kramer

for her school picture
my kid holds up 5 fingers
such a big girl now
   Katya Sabaroff Taylor

3rd eye
found in the depths
of a moon flower
   kris moon

20-year-old dried flowers
the restaurant menu
hasn’t been changed either
   kris moon

71
seems like 10 years older
than 70
   kris moon

90th birthday
grandpa stretches
his yoga mat
   Lakshmi Iyer

1000 lotus petals
the sun shines equally
on each of them
   Lakshmi Iyer

2nd time i’ve dreamed of her
my neighbor
who swears at her kids
   Laurinda Lind

25 strings
the guzheng plucked
under a blue moon
   Lisbeth Ho

uprising
500 monarchs
take over a tree
   Lorraine A. Padden

1 red sock and 1 green
the smiles behind
the masks
   Madhuri Pillai

1,000000 hairs
on the floor —
my dog’s revenge
   Madhuri Pillai

my paintbox
56 shades
the watercolor blue
   Margaret Walker

shrinking violets
1 inch shorter than
I used to be
   Marianne Paul

pricking out
lettuce seedlings . . .
3 observant slugs
   Marietta McGregor

Beethoven’s 9th
a locked-down city
opens for picnics
   Marietta McGregor

crisp morning
1 dough ball
refusing to rise
   Marilyn Ashbaugh

1 tick
on a ferral kitten
autumn deepens
   Marilyn Ashbaugh

morning catch
6 rainbow trout
in the bucket
   Marilyn Humbert

the farmer’s smile
12 bags of wheat
per acre
   Marilyn Humbert

3 a.m.
the road train’s rumble
the length of our town
   Mark Miller

garden chess game
1 black pawn beats the white queen
in a rainstorm
   Marta Chocilowska

rainy autumn
10 clumsy fingers
on the keyboard
   Marta Chocilowska

10,000 leaves
my first primer
of tanka
   Marta Chocilowska

11 p.m.
I give my pen
some rest
   Maya Daneva

52 years, 8 months, 10 days, 12 hours
a long time yet not
a lifetime together
   Michael Flanagan

up at 6 a.m.
to watch a soccer match
6 hours in the future
   Michael Flanagan

2 label-less cans
left on the
food bank shelf
   Michael G. Smith

outside my kitchen
8 expectant irises
greet the new morning
   Mimi Foyle

coming up to noon
parking lot with 8 food trucks
tummy rumbles
   Mimi Foyle

5 o’clock
the sound of grandma sipping
from grandpa’s cup
   Mirela Brailean

last cranes . . .
I stop counting
after 17
   Mirela Brailean

marigold tea
in a watering can
16-month-old child
   Miriam Sagan

barefoot at 5 a.m.
lunar eclipse, nothing
in the mailbox
   Miriam Sagan

on the leafless branch
1 desolate kite
flutters in the wind
   Neena Singh

storyteller . . .
5-year-old grandson
pauses for breath
   Neena Singh

1,000,000,000 stars
the human obsession
with counting the unknown
   Pat Davis

116 facebook pals
the electricity
that binds us
   Pat Davis

blood sugar up 2.2
I shouldn’t have eaten
the cream cake
   Paul Beech

western roll . . .
I clear the bar at 5 feet
a schoolboy gymnast
   Paul Beech

75 pence —
my 1st magazine cheque
kept as a souvenir
   Paul Beech

99 years
I accidentally invert
the birthday cake candles
   Pris Campbell

1 loose baby tooth
mother ties a line
to the doorknob
   Pris Campbell

my birthday flowers
they too last only
1 day
   Rosa Clement

my arms barely curve —
800 rings farther in
the great cedar’s core
   Ruth Yarrow

3 taillights
around the mountain curve —
Orion!
   Ruth Yarrow

uneasy wind
after 1 ring I lift the phone
his death
   Ruth Yarrow

scavenger hunt
at a 2nd-hand shop
mum’s first novel
   Sherry Grant

17 fruit flies . . . 9 fruit flies . . .
now 3 . . .
but not yet 0
   Sue Norvell

2+2=5
he tries to convince me
he isn’t cheating
   Susan Burch

baggage carousel . . .
my legs still trembling
at 35,000 feet
   Theresa A. Cancro

adding up bills
my no. 2 pencil
breaks
   Theresa A. Cancro

childhood flashback —
1 nickel in the slot
3 gumballs
   Theresa A. Cancro

paris welcome —
chanel no. 5
on each cheek
   Theresa A. Cancro

37 years
how long it took
to love myself
   Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

1st kiss
how quickly the universe
expands
   Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

our 4-H club
head heart hands and health
not a bad mantra even now
   Tina Wright

$300 per night —
we gather up
the toiletries
   Tom Bierovic

winter rain
2 cocoa packets
per cup
   Tom Bierovic

farm auction
the crystal door knob
brings 3 dollars
   Tom Bierovic

in the park
a monarch lands on my watch
2:37 p.m.
   Tom Clausen

her family photos
arranged on the piano
0 of her husband
   Tom Clausen

out of all of them out there
I come home with
only 1 tick
   Tom Clausen

1 jigsaw
piece is lost —
a death
   Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

5 o’clock tea
the child arranges the table
for her 10 dolls
   Vibeke Laier

1st frost
blurs your name
on the tombstone
   Wieslaw Karlinski

with grandmother and 3 aunts
laughing together
shelling peas
   Wilda Morris

today’s mail
13 not-for-profits
vie for my donation
   Wilda Morris

bee sting
I itch for 1 week
last days of summer
   Yvonne Fisher

50 people dancing
to zydeco music
outside in the autumn light
   Yvonne Fisher

4 in the morning
alone with my worries
and the broken moon
   Zee Zahava

her gift to me
a drawing of 3 houseplants
i don’t have to water
   Zee Zahava

in the dream
packing 2 suitcases for London
no clothes . . . only books
   Zee Zahava

Wednesday, September 1, 2021

new haiku

Welcome to the September 2021 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal, featuring new haiku written in the last days of August.

Contributing poets are from Argentina, Australia, Brazil, Canada, Denmark, Ecuador, Ghana, India, Indonesia, Israel, Italy, Malaysia, New Zealand, Pakistan, Poland, Romania, Singapore, Switzerland, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, and the United States

empty beach
the wet track of a tortoise
filled with moonlight
   Adjei Agyei-Baah

darkening sky
i’m home alone
with shadows
   ai li

hanging moss . . .
somewhere above my head
a buzzing wasp nest
   Al Gallia

local park
three koi i know
by name
   Al Peat

big toes damaged
my wife and I
old ones with old toes
   Alan Bern

sun into moon
the first sit-down
with neighbours
   Alan Summers

back from Vegas
the neighbors
florescent
   Alexis Rotella

light breeze —
left undisturbed
my shadow
   Ana Drobot

laughter
bursts the soap bubbles
my grandchildren
   Angela Giordano

sun on the terrace —
a screen of roses
between me and tomorrow
   Angiola Inglese

high winds far away
my heart rate
in its resting zone
   Ann Carter

in this long drought
like pale withered squash flowers
my words
   Antonia Matthew

heart shaped leaves
a pair of doves land
together
   Barbara Kaufmann

lazy afternoon
counting the rotations of the
ceiling fan
   Barbara Tate

bathing in the lake
not once
thinking of you
   Barrie Levine

watermelon sunset . . .
I spit a seed
into the sky
   Bill Waters

wandering mind returns home
counting steps cars birds
squirrels leaves breaths
   Blue Waters

a summer of trails
the slug reaches
a mushroom
   Brad Bennett

bluff overlook
losing a bookmark
to the wind
   Bryan Rickert

wet garden gloves
dye my fingers yellow . . .
sunny
   C. Robin Janning

on my porch
we find a watermelon . . .
good fairies
   Carole Johnston

dappled path —
a squirrel scampers
into my shadow
   Carole MacRury

early stars
three kinds of miso
in the fridge
   Caroline Skanne & Violet Akalu-Skanne

zazen . . .
thoughts of my ex
come and go
   Chen-ou Liu

pinned
on the silk sash
a jewel beetle
   Christina Chin

unable to forget
your words
the tartness of tangerines
   Christina Sng

biological clock
I start to consider
pup parenting
   Christine L. Villa

a walk with friends
waving
brown-eyed Susans
   Claire Vogel Camargo

our discussion
on the quality of one haiku . . .
carrot snap
   Daniela Misso

whir of the fan
my heart pounds
sitting in stillness
   Deborah Burke Henderson

papers in boxes
shredding
my past
   Deborah P Kolodji

the rain —
verticality
flowers
   Donna Fleischer

summer twilight
a moth flies
in the shade of poppies
   Eufemia Griffo

power outage
through the mosquito net
a shooting star
   Florin C. Ciobica

stifling heat —
the day’s vapors
in an incense swirl
   Geethanjali Rajan

chasing the last berry
around the bowl
morning fog
   Glenn Ingersoll

fairy tale
stuck in the castle
my niece’s imagination
   Hifsa Ashraf

a bed of flowers
requires cultivation
or else it’s a flop
   Jack Goldman

busy sidewalk
a yellow butterfly’s
soundless flutter
   Jackie Chou

twilight now
folk music
on the radio
   Jill Lange

surrounding
a rogue sunflower
impatiens
   Jo Balistreri

I dream of my mother —
she seems distant
yet close enough to kiss
   Joan Leotta

laundry comes out
piping hot . . . zippers
burn my fingers
   Joan McNerney

could this
be our moment
blackberries
   Joanna Ashwell

old pond —
frog up to its neck
in sunset
   Joe Sebastian

resale shop
a child’s backpack
with bullet holes
   John J. Dunphy

crackling fire
slowly the moon
disappears
   Jorge Giallorenzi

mountain drive —
at the end of the curve
acacias in bloom
   Julia Guzman

one crumpled sock left
on the worn bedroom carpet —
college move-in day
   Julie Bloss Kelsey

kept in cold storage
in the library archive
petals between leaves
   Kath Abela Wilson

the coyotes
are howlling again tonight . . .
i open the window wider
   Kathleen Kramer

is time standing still
or passing like a comet
each day I wonder
   Katya Sabaroff Taylor

my shy neighbor
on a nodding acquaintance
with her sunflowers
   Kristen Lindquist

black-capped chickadee
my father no longer alive
to whistle back
   Laurinda Lind

summer clouds —
reddish green apples
hanging on the blue sky
   Lisbeth Ho

still a few
of these days . . .
red hibiscus
   Lucia Cardillo

evening rainbow
a cockatoo screech
settles on a gum tree
   Madhuri Pillai

chocolate
licking the corners
of your mouth
   Margaret Walker

yellow cowslips
in a dung pile
this hope for change
   Marietta McGregor

seagulls
pull back the sky
beach sunset
   Marilyn Ashbaugh

soulful surge
of the night wind
bamboo chimes
   Marilyn Fleming

cloudless night
the owl moon’s
unblinking eye
   Marilyn Humbert

fresh laundry
forgotten in the pocket
dyer’s madder
   Marta Chocilowska

sitting beside him
needle slips in so smoothly
I can’t help but wince
   Masha M.

reading Issa
this bubble
in my cup of tea
   Maya Daneva

at the convent door . . .
don’t look at the clothes line
and knock . . . just the once
   Michael Flanagan

cappuccino
new art
at the coffee shop
   Michael G. Smith

never knew how much
i missed distant family
until I saw them
   Mimi Foyle

his slightly
spicy words —
the hot dog vendor
   Mirela Brailean

intermission
a meteor streaks over
the opera house
   Miriam Sagan

isolation —
a cicada’s cry
fills the gap
   Neena Singh

bedroom bookshelves
the meaning
of my dreams
   Olivier Schopfer

buttercups
another way to feel
the sun
   Pat Davis

sunset . . .
rods on tripods
father and son pull fish
   Paul Beech

planning ahead
I print my obituary
on a t-shirt
   Pris Campbell

truck stop
a stack of poetry books
under the counter
   Roman Lyakhovetsky

urban hummingbird
the next flower is
three blocks away
   Rosa Clement

pesto in freezer
the basil lingers
on my fingers
   Ruth Yarrow

mini skirt
I no longer own . . .
zoom speech
   Sherry Grant

the air is still thick
our fight like a too-short storm
remedies nothing
   Stacey Murphy

rude tomato!
this morning’s bright white shirt
red polka dotted
   Sue Norvell

more black clothes
perhaps they’ll make me
an honorary crow
   Susan Burch

summer clouds . . .
spider silk clings
to my fingertips
   Theresa A. Cancro

tugboat nosing a
barge up the Hudson
quiet as the fish
   Tina Wright

alone
my shadow
mimics me
   Tom Clausen

a couple of sparrows
in the old oak tree
a kiss in the morning
   Vibeke Laier

the scarecrow
darker from year to year
grandfather’s hat
   Wieslaw Karlinski

toddler
painting her lips
with a red marker
   Wilda Morris

unwrinkling my wrinkles
your hand on
my face
   Zee Zahava

Sunday, August 1, 2021

Thursday, July 1, 2021

childhood memories

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

The theme of this month’s collection is childhood memories.

Contributing poets sent work from Argentina, Australia, Brazil, Bulgaria, Canada, Denmark, Ecuador, Ghana, India, Indonesia, Italy, Malaysia, New Zealand, Pakistan, Poland, Romania, Singapore, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, and the United States

the shape
of our childhood clay pots —
puddle rain
   Adjei Agyei-Baah

childhood river
my reflection
lost to mud
   Adjei Agyei-Baah

barefoot
on the verandah
my wee footprints
   ai li

playing hopscotch
our silhouettes
at dusk
   ai li

my birthday cakes
have become
black & white photographs
   ai li

on my back
arms up
beetle soars by
   Alan Bern

we all shouted
GOAL!
even with no ball
   Alan Bern

race from the basement
to the attic
and back
   Alan Bern

hugging the doll
I hug
myself
   Alexis Rotella

among mom’s lingerie
a book on how babies
are made
   Alexis Rotella

river bed
fishing with dad
every sunday
   Amauri Solon

mild fever
always meant
warm porridge at bed
   Amauri Solon

among the new grass
collecting snails —
my grandmother and me
   Angela Giordano

until sunset —
hunting for moths
chasing my dreams
   Angela Giordano

at dusk my grandmother
puts out a saucer of milk
for the hedgehogs
   Antonia Matthew

supper at boarding school
we found a rusty nail
in the rice pudding
   Antonia Matthew

on the walk home
dad points out the moon
ice cream cones
   Barbara Kaufmann

ocean waves
the day my brother
wandered off
   Barbara Kaufmann

a flashlight
for reading in the dark
nancy drew
   Barbara Kaufmann

family reunion
four granddaughters learn
to bake biscuits
   Barbara Tate

past bedtime
freeing lightning bugs
from the jar
   Barbara Tate

Planters Peanuts, seagulls,
and motorized rolling chairs . . .
boardwalk memories
   Bill Waters

arts & crafts
with mom . . .
making memories
   Bill Waters

stiff white Easter dress
begs me to go jump into
a big mud puddle
   Blue Waters

crow and I in a tree
imitating the neighbor’s
fussy baby
   Blue Waters

runt of abandoned litter
thinks I’m his mother
raccoon named Chuck
   Blue Waters

alone again
on the woodland trail
turtle and I
   Bryan Rickert

summer vacation
the little freedom
a bicycle brings
   Bryan Rickert

childhood secrets
every good spot
in the fishing hole
   Bryan Rickert

cracking jokes
over our heads
middle school
   C.R. Harper

childhood dream
freeing canaries
from your mine
   C.R. Harper

always serious
watching for clouds and storms . . .
except when reading
   C. Robin Janning

all afternoon
bounce the ball pick up the jacks . . .
learning to count
   C. Robin Janning

my sister and I
practicing for communion
with necco wafers
   C. Robin Janning

carousel pony
salty breeze . . . organ music
I miss the gold ring
   Carole Johnston

we are horses
we gallop and trot
with the wind
   Carole Johnston

on mother’s lap
with my favorite book . . .
she falls asleep
   Carole Johnston

aces up
grandma teaches me
how to cheat
   Caroline Skanne

summer rain escaping into The Secret Garden
   Caroline Skanne

small drawers
in secret I try on
her evil eye
   Caroline Skanne

Whitman’s Sampler:
I still remember the fillings
of each chocolate
   Charles Trumbull

home for the holidays
my mother’s favorite chair
a little more worn
   Charles Trumbull

white-streaked sky
scribbles in the margins
of my math textbook
   Chen-ou Liu

highs and lows
of the summer ferris wheel
me and the girl next door
   Chen-ou Liu

blustery wind
my upturned umbrella
catches the rain
   Christina Chin

ladybird
in a glass jar
wildflowers
   Christina Chin

sitting in the shadows
I invent new worlds
with stuffed animals
   Christina Sng

daydreaming
I sit on my swing
after school
   Christina Sng

childhood teacups
made up stories
made up friends
   Christine L. Villa

mom’s passing
another cold breakfast
and dead silence
   Christine L. Villa

playing grown-up
a drop of coffee
in my milk
   Claire Vogel Camargo

summer days
listening for the
ice cream truck
   Claire Vogel Camargo

dining room table
aunt jean’s tortoise shell
cigarette holder
   Claire Vogel Camargo

my handkerchief
filled with blades of grass
kindergarten
   Daniela Misso

squabbles . . .
talking to the roses
in the courtyard
   Daniela Misso

cumulonimbus
the percussion of hail
against our silos
   Debbie Strange

blistering sun
we wade through a river
of barley
   Debbie Strange

dinner bell
the wind swallows
its sound
   Debbie Strange

weeding the shell drive
arthritic fingers teach
young hands
   Deborah Burke Henderson

painted desert
our crayons melt
on the back seat
   Deborah Burke Henderson

white stallion
trusted friend in the
dark of night
   Deborah Burke Henderson

too many freckles
at the 4th of July picnic
strawberries
   Deborah P Kolodji

mom’s books, my books . . .
the bus we took
to the library
   Deborah P Kolodji

father-daughter moments
wild chicory
in the wicker basket
   Elisa Allo

balloon in the sky . . .
on daddy’s shoulders
the whole world
   Elisa Allo

summer vacation
a shooting star
crosses the sky
   Eufemia Griffo

playing bride
grandmother’s necklace
around my neck
   Eufemia Griffo

washing day —
the blanket no longer smells
of mamma
   Geethanjali Rajan

a brother leaves home —
his rock albums
now mine
   Geethanjali Rajan

waking up
to a familiar sound —
grandpa’s baritone OM
   Geethanjali Rajan

old tyre swing
deshaping
the full moon
   Hifsa Ashraf

paperboat
in the rain puddle
mom’s old prescription
   Hifsa Ashraf

flying paper kites
with no strings attached
childhood daydreaming
   Hifsa Ashraf

homeschooled
tucking away the blues
in origami
   Jackie Chou

inside a snow globe
a white Christmas
for the deer and me
   Jackie Chou

turtle funeral
a box set gently
on outgoing tide
   Jay Friedenberg

dinner time . . .
snow falls quietly
into angel imprints
   Jay Friedenberg

RMS Titanic
my plastic model sinks
into Long Island sound
   Jay Friedenberg

only child / part-time twin . . .
my parents’ friends’ son
five days older than i
   Jill Lange

so many days spent
in the weeping willow
my dog nearby
   Jill Lange

my backyard sandbox
popular with friends
and local cats
   Jim Mazza

held in his arms
my father rocks me
until my fever breaks
   Jim Mazza

dreams of my dead father
we sit by a lake
he takes my hand
   Jim Mazza

bob dylan
the times they are a-changin’
vietnam
   Jo Balistreri

filching
the thrill of not being caught
with grandpa’s rhubarb
   Jo Balistreri

playing marbles —
yellow cat’s eye shooter
the boys envy me
   Jo Balistreri

wobbling on two wheels
until confidence
brings balance
   Joan Leotta

writing my name with sparklers
on the night sky —
how long will it remain?
   Joan Leotta

tracing
my father’s face
with my fingertips
   Joan McNerney

hide and seek
under
the stairwell
   Joan McNerney

taking care
within the lines
colouring a jungle
   Joanna Ashwell

scooping out
the melted chocolate
rice-crispie crunch
   Joanna Ashwell

panda bear
whispering goodnight
to the bedbugs
   Joanna Ashwell

my first straight-A report card
for once I take
the shortest way home
   John J. Dunphy

holy communion —
the only time I’m not punished
for sticking out my tongue
   John J. Dunphy

carnival —
testing the water balloons
a week before
   Jorge Alberto Giallorenzi

basketball game —
the leather ball
punctured again
   Jorge Alberto Giallorenzi

muddy street —
making small cakes
to celebrate a new doll
   Julia Guzman

English class —
mocking the teacher’s voice
in her absence
   Julia Guzman

the seashell
that walked away —
hermit crab
   Julie Bloss Kelsey

school field trip —
losing my tooth
in an apple
   Julie Bloss Kelsey

mother’s roses . . .
we name the orange one
Fred
   Julie Bloss Kelsey

five years old
on a sunlit yellow page
my first poem
   Kath Abela Wilson

planning for
33 children
my list of names
   Kath Abela Wilson

salty air windy bay
in my hand the hot
ferry boat pretzel
   Kath Abela Wilson

typing a poem
loving the clack the keys make
as I find myself
   Katya Sabaroff Taylor

first diary, age 12
locking it after I write
that Bobby kissed me
   Katya Sabaroff Taylor

dressing my old cat
in doll clothes, wheeling the pram
down Meadowbrook Drive
   Katya Sabaroff Taylor

puffs of smoke
from my candy cigarette
sugar high
   Kristen Lindquist

midwinter dusk
crunching not sucking
the lemon drops
   Kristen Lindquist

clear and cold
skating infinities
across the lake
   Kristen Lindquist

backyard mango tree
I try to pluck
the day moon
   Lakshmi Iyer

running after father
I follow the shooting star . . .
handmade lantern
   Lakshmi Iyer

giggling
at the touch of mimosa
morning walk
   Lisbeth Ho

fireflies
lead the way —
homecoming
   Lisbeth Ho

hearts
our blunt-edged scissors
learn to cut
   Lorraine A. Padden

goldfish funeral
my best friend
next to the hamster
   Lorraine A. Padden

kitchen drawer
I dig for mom’s recipes
and find acorns
   Lorraine A. Padden

listening closely
grandma teaches me the name
of every flower
   Lucia Cardillo

August sea . . .
small crabs prisoners
in my bucket
   Lucia Cardillo

in the dark
the sure hand of my father . . .
fireflies and stars
   Lucia Cardillo

summer holidays
throwing back my voice
grandparents’ unused well
   Madhuri Pillai

interstate train journey —
the same food
in different flavours
   Madhuri Pillai

grandfather’s smile . . .
Buddha-like
his gentle face
   Madhuri Pillai

first allowance
dad and I build a fence
together
   Marianne Paul

mother’s fantasies —
she wants me to become
a TV weather girl
   Marianne Paul

power play
my big sister makes me
kiss her foot
   Marianne Paul

hospital table
a toy horse
with no name
   Marietta McGregor

painted ladies
my shell collection
back in the sea
   Marietta McGregor

5 cents
lemonade
with no lemons
   Marilyn Ashbaugh

marbles
a new galaxy
enters the ring
   Marilyn Ashbaugh

bed frolic
mom’s wedding ring quilt
loses a ring
   Marilyn Ashbaugh

hand-me-downs
another hole
in my sock
   Marilyn Fleming

Saturdays
inch of water
in the bath
   Marilyn Fleming

holy water
from a livestock cup
I bless myself
   Marilyn Fleming

father’s yodel
echoes across pasture
milking time
   Marilyn Humbert

rusty tin roof
morning tea with dolls
in the crawl space
   Marilyn Humbert

dipping green tomato slices
in the flour-seasoning
the dust in grandma’s kitchen
   Maya Daneva

helping grandpa fish
I catch a butterfly
with his fish net
   Maya Daneva

harvest moon
so angry at grandpa
for cutting sunflower heads
   Maya Daneva

4th of July!
darkness not darkening
quickly enough
   Michael Smith

Bambi at the drive-in
even Dad
cried
   Michael Smith

ice cream motivation —
I take out
the garbage
   Michael Smith

library outings
an orange-frosted donut
on the way back home
   Mimi Foyle

rousted out of bed
in the middle of the night
to see an eclipse
   Mimi Foyle

father-daughter time
on the front lawn on our backs
watching cloud-landscapes
   Mimi Foyle

homecoming —
even the river’s rocks
less jagged
   Mirela Brailean

the old porch —
grandpa’s war stories
still fresh
   Mirela Brailean

just the wind
over the scratches —
orphanage yard
   Mirela Brailean

pretending I found
the four-leaf clover
I made
   Miriam Sagan

it’s a circus!
my little sisters still
follow my orders
   Miriam Sagan

every night I fly
over copper beeches
in my dreams
   Miriam Sagan

recaptured garter snake
math teacher
less excited
   Nancy Shires

around my muffin
a smile
of grapes
   Nancy Shires

drumming our bellies
to make mom think
we’re out of bed
   Nancy Shires

North Star
in the gloaming
papa’s voice
   Neena Singh

even in Lucknow
longing for Lucknow
the old guava tree
   Neena Singh

Nonno’s wood stove
orange peels curl
into morning
   Pat Davis

in line by age
we get the polio shot
in our kitchen
   Pat Davis

cramped apartment
a box of treasures
under my bed
   Pat Davis

down caverns with granddad . . .
my stalactite
in a matchbox
   Paul Beech

standing on our heads
kid bro and I ponder
the opposite sex
   Paul Beech

first grade photos
he saves his big one
for me
   Pris Campbell

scuppernong season
we stand by the ripened vine
sucking and spitting
   Pris Campbell

upside down world
I hang by my heels
from the pecan tree
   Pris Campbell

mother sings
whatever will be will be
ironing undershirts
   Ron Scully

first baseman’s glove
instead of the catcher’s mitt
all the difference
   Ron Scully

my childhood pets
an old chicken and its
many chicks
   Rosa Clement

fishing days
grandpa always told us
the same stories
   Rosa Clement

remembering
all the baths I took
in the spring rain
   Rosa Clement

straddling the tree branch
and a new feeling —
captain of my ship
   Ruth Yarrow

dawn
cowpie up between my toes
warm
   Ruth Yarrow

sharing milk
with my favorite teddy
his sour nose
   Ruth Yarrow

last in the
race again
sports day
   Sherry Grant

camping
by the river
the fire wouldn’t start
   Sherry Grant

plink plinkplinkplink plink
mom and I
shell peas for supper
   Sue Norvell

learning to count by two’s
I chant the numbers
all the way home
   Sue Norvell

after dad left
our little blue house
bluer
   Susan Burch

sneezing fit —
never mowing
the yard again
   Susan Burch

beach bummed
leaving the turtle I found
where I found it
   Susan Burch

brussels sprouts . . .
running away from home
across the street
   Theresa A. Cancro

rose hips swaying our hula hoops
   Theresa A. Cancro

first day of vacation . . .
the glow of jellyfish
beyond the pier
   Theresa A. Cancro

my hand gently
caresses her face
(i knew i wasn’t straight)
   Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

recurring nightmare
the wolf licks his lips
beside my bed
   Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

teenage rebellion
i crush the cig with my
steel-toe combat boots
   Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

tractor, hay wagon
sister, brother high on top
child driving is me
   Tina Wright

the cow Chocolate
who walked under hot fence wire
like it was nothin
   Tina Wright

finger painting
roses on the window
snow day
   Tom Bierovic

rope swing
moonlight going up
shadows coming down
   Tom Bierovic

in the back seat
between my sister and me
an imaginary line
   Tom Clausen

my fortune
collecting bottles
from the ditch
   Tom Clausen

neighbor’s barn
playing doctor . . .
we all need operations
   Tom Clausen

open window
after summer rain
mom cuts a dress-up doll for me
   Vibeke Laier

summer holidays
grandfather shows me
the joy of a library book
   Vibeke Laier

summer silence
gathering stones
at sunset
   Vibeke Laier

the street
of my childhood —
not a single stop sign
   Vladislav Hristov

hide and seek
I’m uncovered
by a ray of light
   Vladislav Hristov

school excursion
scent fills the bus —
grandma’s apple pie
   Wieslaw Karlinski

weedy garden
trying to recall
my botany teacher
   Wieslaw Karlinski

my playhouse
a branch
in the apple tree
   Wilda Morris

last one chosen again kicking weeds in the outfield
   Wilda Morris

ball & jacks
always losing
to my cousins
   Wilda Morris

playing squash outside
against the wall
just me and the ball
   Yvonne Fisher

I stayed inside
daydreaming
fame and fortune
   Yvonne Fisher

jumping rope
I knew
I could fly
   Yvonne Fisher

roller skating
to a different planet
just around the corner
   Zee Zahava

proud Brownie
wearing my beanie
like a crown
   Zee Zahava

new crayons
hidden under my pillow —
i refuse to share
   Zee Zahava

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
the
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
quarrel
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

thwack
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
pantomimed
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

slurping
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
“Momma”
   Christina Sng

grandma’s
last breath
the still wind
   Christina Sng

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

somewhere
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

hello
from behind a mask . . .
her eyes
   Donna Fleischer

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

twilight
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

post-quarantine
the long creak
of the garden gate
   Geethanjali Rajan

from flower to flower
to my ear
the honeybee
   Glenn Ingersoll

blowin’
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

seagulls
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

perhaps
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 —
seagull
   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

trilling
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
midwinter
   Marietta McGregor

steady beat
hacky sacks jump
into spring
   Marilyn Ashbaugh

poolside
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
up
   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
windchimes
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

lullaby
the boy frees the teddy bear
from a hug
   Rosa Clement

lost
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

caterwaul
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
pop-pop-popping
   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

doorbell
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