Saturday, October 1, 2022

kitchen haiku

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

The theme of this month’s collection is “kitchen haiku”

Contributing poets are from Argentina, Australia, Canada, China, Denmark, Ecuador, India, Ireland, Italy, Malaysia, Malta, Poland, Romania, Singapore, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, the United States, Wales.

a sink
full of
unfulfilled dreams
    ai li

grandma’s pantry . . .
hidden behind the preserves
pear wine
    Al Gallia

dirty dishes
wait in the cupboard
clean ones in the sink
    Alan Bern

back of the pantry a label in dad’s hand
    Alan Peat

fry up —
she adds more spice
to yesterday’s story
    Alan Peat

window feeder
watching the goldfinch
watching me eat
    Alan Peat

feeding vinegar through the coffee machine deep cleanse
    Alan Summers

clearing the toaster
of more than crumbs
window clouds
    Alan Summers

eggs benedict
for breakfast
and roses just picked
    Alexis Rotella

cakes in the oven
we walk
on tiptoes
    Alexis Rotella

geography lesson —
I slice a pomegranate
as I draw a volcano
    Ana Drobot

shortcrust pastry your harsh words
    Angela Giordano

early autumn
pear jam
for breakfast
    Angiola Inglese

tax man
we spread last year
on the kitchen table
    Barbara Kaufmann

making pesto
for once I keep the splatter
off the ceiling
    Barbara Kaufmann

on the refrigerator door
a new drawing
    Barbara Sayre

iron teapot
the time it takes
to grow old
    Barrie Levine

my daughter
saving the world
cloth napkins
    Barrie Levine

taste test —
discovering the typo
in the recipe
    Bill Waters

mom’s six sisters
loud and wildly cooking
watch your back
    Blue Waters

winter tea
fifty-four bones
cradling my cup
    Brad Bennett

guests due soon
more coriander
more cumin
    Brad Bennett

ergonometric kitchen
still tripping over
the cat’s food bowl
    Bryan D. Cook

winter solitude
reminding myself chocolate
isn’t a meal
    Bryan Rickert

mother’s funeral
the silence of
her tea kettle
    Bryan Rickert

something green always
growing in a glass or jar
my mother’s kitchen
    C. Robin Janning

my sous chef
brave enough to use
the mandoline
    Carol Judkins

vintage pyrex
tuna fish casserole
every friday night
    Carol Judkins

singing hymns
mother peeling apples
her bagpipe voice
    Carole Johnston

fruit flies . . .
time to turn bananas
into bread
    Carole MacRury

late life —
using the good china
for breakfast
    Carole MacRury

sunlit windowsill . . .
another avocado seed
fails to sprout
    Carole MacRury

morning coffee
lip-prints on her cup
and my cheek
    Chen Xiaoou

on the kitchen table . . .
things half-spoken
    Chen-ou Liu

housewarming cake
the neighbor’s knife rack shaped
like a human body
    Chen-ou Liu

an assortment
in the air fryer
doughnut holes
    Christina Chin

those little beetroots pickling the garden
    Christina Martin

lids on lids off
steaming cauliflower
almost a spill
    Christina Martin

kitchen herbs      leaning toward the sun
    Christina Sng

garden party
the gathering begins
and ends in the kitchen
    Christine Wenk-Harrison

gran at the stove
not wanting any help
her apple pie
    Claire Vogel Camargo

the kitchen sink
storm watch
    C.R. Harper

mason jars
a cucumber ribbon curls
around my wrist
    Debbie Strange

my auntie’s kitchen
linoleum worn thin at
the stove
    Deborah Burke Henderson

dishwasher rhythms
fill her dream
empty night
    Donna Fleischer

rainy weather
champignons a la creme
    Elena Malec

kitchen window
day moon stained
with ketchup
    Florin C. Ciobica

pan overflowing with fresh garden colors
    Frank Muller

grandma’s home
a summer spiced
with pickled mangoes
    Geethanjali Rajan

winter morning chill
pounding fresh ginger
to spice my chai
    Geethanjali Rajan

first gas stove
third burnt meal —
kids opening windows
    Geoff Pope

grocery bags . . .
the cat waits
for that sound
    Geoff Pope

burnt out bulb
the cutting board’s
white scratches
    Glenn Ingersoll

my grandmother hummed
whenever she baked a cake
we tasted her song
    Jack Goldman

bygone friends . . .
kitchen cabinet filled with
souvenir mugs
    Jackie Chou

wrapping dumplings
our special bonding
in every fold
    Jackie Chou

thawing shrimp under the tap
snowmelt drips
down the kitchen window
    Jenna Le

dad’s birthday cake
cutting the slices thin
to make them last
    Jenna Le

commercial break —
rushing i drop my cupcake
in the cat bowl
    Jill Lange

her rolling pin just being
there in the drawer
how it connects me
    Jill Lange

the cactus found
in grandmother’s window
here now with its offspring
    Jill Lange

smells of dinner —
tomatoes, dad is home
lamb, dad’s at work
    Joan Leotta

to the recipe
spider threads
    Joanna Ashwell

butterfly cakes
just the sound
of raindrops
    Joanna Ashwell

bland soup
silent sit-alone breakfast
after break-up
    Joe Sebastian

sneaking from behind
I grab her at the sink
she breaks a small glass
    Joel Savishinsky

kitchen sink
walking on the suds
a daddy long-legs
    John J. Dunphy

power outage
I ransack the kitchen for
the manual can opener
    John J. Dunphy

peeling onions imagining my parents as children
    John Pappas

squash soup
the pain in my elbow
    John Pappas

woven into the kitchen curtain
a strand
of mom’s hair
    Jorge Alberto Giallorenzi

grandmother tells me about
her grandmother’s springhouse
    Joshua St. Claire

overcrowded kitchen . . . no space for my sister’s absence
    Julia Guzman

potato omelette —
the same saucepan
generation to generation
    Julia Guzman

silverware drawer a single spoon lonely
    Karla Linn Merrifield

boosting spirits
inviting friends again
to our kitchen table
    Kath Abela Wilson

under the dish towels
mother’s stash
of caramels
    Kathleen Kramer

rainy day train
kitchen chairs in a row
i’m the engineer
    Kathleen Kramer

kitchen table
the sun casts a glow over
the quan yin statue
    Katya Sabaroff Taylor

turmeric sky
grandma’s cookbook pages
smudged in yellow
    Lakshmi Iyer

aroma of masala still
in the washed kitchen towels . . .
family reunion
    Lakshmi Iyer

stay outside
in breathable air
oven cleaning cycle
    Laurinda Lind

lack of ego the celery allows the dip
    Lorraine A Padden

first love
the rosemary pressed
in her cookbook
    Lorraine A Padden

all the French
I’ll ever need
    Lorraine A Padden

chilly night
the warmth of another
chipotle in the chili
    Marcie Wessels

trussing a chicken
for sunday dinner
not quite julia child
    Marcie Wessels

expired the pantry bare
    Margaret Walker

family reunion
my adult sister kicks me
under the table
    Marianne Paul

cottage pantry
ants ants ants ants
in the cake
    Marianne Paul

rusty iron pot
wondering about
going makeup-free
    Marietta McGregor

cool morning
the sun and yeast
slowly rise
    Marilyn Ashbaugh

first apartment
the turkey too big
for the oven
    Marilyn Ashbaugh

outdoor kitchen
campfire pan sizzles
with sausages
    Marilyn Humbert

new year’s eve
busy preparing dough
for the first bread
    Marta Chocilowska

just water and leaves
you and me
    Mary Kendall

summer backyard kitchen
this bee rests in the shade
of my whisk
    Maya Daneva

one cup one plate one fork . . . life alone
    Michael Flanagan

since you’ve gone
the oven is a museum
for relics of past feasts
    Michael Flanagan

the recipe calls for lemons
no lemons here
I use blueberries
    Michael G. Smith

my inheritance
from her welsh cupboard
the willow pattern
    Mike Gallagher

new dishwasher
now we argue about
who empties it
    Mike Gallagher

midnight prowl
a frightened house gecko
on the fridge
    Milan Rajkumar

slicing bamboo shoots —
the shape of father’s hands
in my own
    Milan Rajkumar

wilderness kitchen
the hollowed-out hardwood sink
sprouts moss and mushrooms
    Mimi Foyle

grey morning
a pinch of cinnamon
in my tea
    Mirela Brailean

haiku submissions:
pots and pans in the sink
await their turn
    Neena Singh

salt and pepper
on the kitchen table
match my hair
    Neena Singh

kitchen table
how I miss my
    Pat Davis

long before the term
multipurpose room
our kitchen
    Pat Davis

busy bakers
in an old folks’ home
their cookbook wins a prize
    Paul Beech

smartphones in hand —
the soup
grows colder
    Paul Callus

the entire house
guests gather in our kitchen
    Paula Sears

sifting through
grandma’s recipe box
she practices cursive
    Paula Sears

preacher day
one chicken and cobbed corn
fills us all
    Pris Campbell

dinner call
my imaginary playmate’s
empty plate
    Pris Campbell

alone . . .
mother learns
to microwave
    Pris Campbell

nearly winter thyme drying in the oven
    Richard Matta

morning tea
splashes of grey
on my saucer
    Richard Matta

monday, let’s do this
crock pot slowly works magic . . .
dinner served at six
    Roberta Beach Jacobson

new refrigerator the dent that came with it
    Susan Burch

elbows off the table
so we don’t squash
the fairies
    Theresa A. Cancro

practicing arabesque
a kitchen chair stands in
for his arm
    Theresa A. Cancro

that Portland bar
i baked pan pizzas in an old stove
black as a train
    Tina Wright

in the kitchen
my “personal things”
top shelf
    Tom Clausen

two teacups
the years they have sat
side by side
    Tom Clausen

hovering mom-in-law
my kitchen is now
a sanity-free zone
    Vandana Parashar

by the kitchen window
pigeons repair
last year’s nest
    Vibeke Laier

autumn moon
shadows of the old oak tree
on my kitchen wall
    Vibeke Laier

third coffee
just before dawn
new haiku
    Wieslaw Karlinski

middle of autumn
granddaughter bakes on her own
rice cakes
    Wieslaw Karlinski

his and hers
cream cheese on my waffle
maple syrup on his
    Wilda Morris

after all these years
still reading the directions . . .
hard boiled eggs
    Zee Zahava