Tuesday, March 1, 2022

a haiku celebration of women and girls

 Welcome to the March 2022 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal

Contributing poets are from Australia, Canada, Denmark, Ecuador, India, Italy, Malaysia, Malta, New Zealand, Pakistan, Poland, Romania, Singapore, Spain, the United Kingdom, and the United States

mother staying up
all night
when i was ill
    ai li

around my wife a bright corona of burnt orange sunset
    Alan Bern

grey hair and tie dye
fending off the present
with her fondue fork
    Alan Peat

in dialect
grandma speaks to
her peonies
    Alexis Rotella

a few days in May
the scent of roses —
I think of my mother
    Angiola Inglese

carolina jasmine climbing a fence my mother’s gift
    Ann Carter

water baby
my daughter runs toward
her first view of ocean waves
    Antonia Matthew

spring equinox
my granddaughter and I
start our seeds
    Barbara Kaufmann

perfectly seasoned
cabbage soup –
mom’s wooden spoon
    Barbara Sabol

rose and jasmine
the scent of my aunts
in their names
    Barrie Levine

hunkered in the sand
my granddaughter builds castles
for hermit crabs
    Bryan Cook

polio survivor
mother says covid
won’t get her either
    Bryan Rickert

writing together
twelve women calling on
the muses
    Carole Johnston

granddaughter . . .
like mom and myself
sleeping in silk
    Carole MacRury

sunlit lake
my niece jumps into the sound
of laughter
    Chen-ou Liu

first lipstick
afraid to lick
my lips
    Christina Chin

grandma chuckles
over the worm in the lettuce —
more protein
    Christina Martin

beach day
my daughter picks
a seashell for me
    Christina Sng

discovering my
poetry muse in the shower
midlife rescue
    Claire Vogel Camargo

first kiss —
she tells me about
global warming
    Dan Iulian

ice road
I weave blue ribbons
through mom’s hair
    Debbie Strange

deep freeze —
nana warms my small face
with her hands
    Deborah Burke Henderson

my teenage mother
the year she delivered mail
by horseback
    Deborah P Kolodji

ice skating
our friendship bonded
with broken bones
    Elena Calvo

spring fever
my mother puts on
a green dress
    Florin C. Ciobica

backyard ballerina . . .
I’m Margot Fonteyn
showered with petals
    Helen Buckingham

white peony
the subtlety
of my self-image
    Hifsa Ashraf

sisters in pajamas
reading a fairy tale
— missing our mom
    Janice Doppler

in 10th grade
the quiet teacher shares
haiku and Thoreau
    Jill Lange

mom’s junk mail protest
postage-paid return envelopes
ten pounds of rice
    Jim Mazza

hands of twenty women
palming drumskins for Ukraine
our shared heartbeats
    Jo Balistreri

grandmother’s coats
now a quilt
protects me against the cold
    Joan Leotta

in my own magic . . .
    Joanna Ashwell

a doll house     a stage
she glues grass for her toy deer
makes its habitat
    Joel Savishinsky

VFW post
its new commander stands tall
on her prosthetic legs
    John J. Dunphy

Sunday services —
my daughter’s pink plastic ring
in the offertory
    Julie Bloss Kelsey

a shoulder to cry on
wishing she were my mom . . .
aunty Jean
    Karen Harvey

her wish for peace
my mother’s letters
to world leaders
        Kath Abela Wilson

proud grandma
flexes her biceps
big as grandpap’s
    Kathleen Kramer

all my ancestors
women birthing more women
an unbroken chain
    Katya Sabaroff Taylor

independence day
my tween niece signs her name
with a sparkler
    Kristen Lindquist

family album
in a pink nightgown
    Lakshmi Iyer

our playground
baseball star
my teacher nun
    Laurinda Lind

the outspoken pattern
of a lace collar
    Lorraine Padden

the sky is the limit . . .
I repeat mother’s words
to my daughter
    Madhuri Pillai

with my favorite aunt
Coke in glass bottles
    Marcie Wessels

grandmama’s feedsack apron pockets of love
    Margaret Walker

white handkerchiefs
the mothers and grandmothers
who never give up
    Marianne Paul

the steadiness
of mother’s hand
first carousel ride
    Marietta McGregor

riverside amble . . .
teaching my daughter
which herbs to pick
    Marilyn Humbert

mom’s cookbook
the stained pages
take me back
    Marta Chocilowska

between eighteen and seventy
her constant smile
    Michael Flanagan

first born —
we name our daughter
Rani, the queen
    Milan Rajkumar

my grown-up daughter
fearless and vulnerable
as a wildflower
    Mimi Foyle

turning 60 . . .
i feel more like ten
    Mirela Brailean

the gap in her teeth
filled with light
    Neena Singh

homemade dress
mama called it
    Pat Davis

tending tomatoes
Gran relives her mill town youth
a lass on a loom
    Paul Beech

Wilma Rudolph
the wind recalls in awe
her dash to fame
    Paul Callus

never any gossip
or unkind words
my friend’s funeral
    Pris Campbell

scenting the day
her scribbled notes
in my lunch box
    Richard L. Matta

85th birthday —
almost all Mom’s potted plants
still in bloom
    Robert Epstein

reminding me
of my femininity
Georgia O’Keeffe
    Roberta Beach Jacobson

shooing the toddler
out of the abandoned mine —
halo of her hair
    Ruth Yarrow

my old teacher
her death
a cello string snaps
    Sherry Grant

my no cancer trophy a mammogrammy
    Susan Burch

her hands create words
my sister unites
the deaf and the hearing world
    Teresa Bakota Yatsko

warm meteorite . . .
grandma pockets
a star
    Theresa A. Cancro

itself enough for
a family party
sister sally’s lasagna
    Tina Wright

ninety years
each of Granny’s cocker spaniels
named “Honey”
    Tom Clausen

sisters resting under
a cherry blossom tree
no need for words
    Vibeke Laier

echo of Mother’s voice
in the kitchen
singing Back in the Hills
    Wilda Morris

my sweetheart places
each flower in the vase
another act of love
    Zee Zahava