Thursday, October 1, 2015

Happiness Haiku


Welcome to the October issue of brass bell: a haiku journal. This month it is all about things that make us happy.

Contributors come from Australia, Brazil, Canada, Croatia, Denmark, England, France, Ghana, India, Nigeria, Poland, Romania, Switzerland, and the United States


folding and unfolding
the unheard clap 
of the butterfly
- Adjei Agyei-Baah

eager to reach the shore my boat, the ripples, and I
- Ajaya Mahala

sidewalk crack
we hopscotch
and salute the flower
- Alan Summers

an old friend
is greeted with
joyous barks
- Almila Dukel

hand in hand with my dad
Oh! Susanna —
whistling together
- Amauri Solon

one glimpse of the poppy field happiness
- Ana Drobot

traffic light —
music from the other car 
gets my feet tapping
- Angelee Deodhar

summer sky
laughter from both ends
of the see-saw
- Anitha Varma

when I look at him
it starts to melt . . .
my ice cream
- Anna Goluba

ninth month . . .
in the child's crib
the full moon
- Anna Mazurkiewicz

on the sunny side a blanket of forget-me-nots
- Anne Elise Burgevin

following
the falling kites . . .
children giggle
- Archana Kapoor Nagpal

within this 
raucous human swarm
her soft whisper
- ayaz daryl nielsen

blackberry thicket —
mother hums
dance of the bumblebee
- Barbara Hay

meditation
the song of a nightingale
in the garden
- Barbara Tate

watching you walk up the driveway my heart as wide   
as the sky
- C. Robin Janning

imagine 
a poetry party
falling leaves
- Carole Johnston

thunder storm
we hide under blankets
sipping sweet tea
- Caroline Skanne

the sway
of her shining pigtail . . .
first day of school
- Chen-ou Liu

spaghetti dinner
I watch her twirl
her hair
- Dave Read

love notes
the heart-shaped tracks
of wapiti
- Debbie Strange

big catch!
the fisherman's son kicks
a stone into the river
- Emmanuel Kalusian

the letters in our new mail box
somehow seem
more important now
- Frank Robinson

mountain road the curve of your smile
- Garima Behal

gibbous moon —
we laugh away
our wrinkles
- Geethanjali Rajan

mother's happiness —
crossing the second border
together with dry socks
- Goran Gatalica

rainbow
overlooking
the forecast
- Helen Buckingham

girls playing jump rope on the sidewalk grasshoppers
- Jo Balistreri

try to catch the wind
count the ripples in the sea
be a child again
- Joan McNerney

darkness
dancing with lightning
the drumbeat of you
- Joann Grisetti

sand hill
mommy come and see
my castle
- Karen O'Leary

lost melody —
grandma's voice
in cuckoo's song
- Kumarendra Mallick

rackets raised high
children play badminton
across barbed border
- Lavana Kray

blue skies
the innate contentment
of daisies
- Marianne Paul

first kiss —
leaves swirling along
the schoolyard fence
- Mark E. Brager

walking on stilts
as a child
like this great blue heron today
- Marty Blue Waters

sweet lullaby —
seated beside the window
listening to the rain
- Nicole Pottier

downhill skiing    I become wind
- Olivier Schopfer

afternoon moon . . .
looking up i laugh
what time is it?
- Pat Geyer

summer ends
we take the ocean home
in a suitcase
- Phyllis Lee

her tears
when asked
with a ring
- Pravin Menon

spring breeze
the scent of her
approaching
- Rachel Sutcliffe

fitting snugly the dog and the afternoon
- Raamesh Gowri Raghavan

beach
building dreams
shovel and pail
- Robert Henry Poulin

arriving guests
a frog on the path brings 
some extra laughs
- Rosa Clement

balmy evening
across the noisy party
our eyes connect
- Ruth Yarrow

putting on my winter coat surprises in the pockets
- Sara Robbins

afternoon drizzle...
i add another line
to my poem 
- Shloka Shankar

overcast —
her smile rearranges 
the skyline
- Shrikaanth Krishnamurthy

when you are that one tree reaching for the sun
- Sierra Claire

over each other's shoulder different stars
- Simon Hanson

midwest sunset
breaking off a piece
to wear
- Sondra J. Byrnes

overnight the live oak tree thousands of butterflies
- Sue Norvell

summer's end —
a hammock cradles
the sunset
- Theresa A. Cancro

winter rain . . .
Caribbean cricket
on my radio
- Tim Gardiner

sitting in the sun
not even trying
to figure anything out
- Tom Clausen

in these mists
this morning a yellow tulip
with fringe
- Tricia Knoll

shooting stars
the weight of 
a summer wish
- Vibeke Laier

wandering butterfly on a flowered dress joyful rest
- Virginia Popescu

mother picks a dandelion 
to wear in her hair
she calls this gardening
- Zee Zahava


Tuesday, September 1, 2015

September Issue: One-Line Haiku


Welcome to the September, 2015 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal. This month each poem is just one line in length. As you will see, there is great beauty and depth in this deceptively simple form.

You will find work here by 63 contributors, from  Bosnia and Herzegovina, Brazil, Bulgaria, Canada, Denmark, England, France, Ghana, India, New Zealand, Nigeria, Philippines, Poland, Romania, and The United States. 



dry savanna the dotted castles of anthills
   - Adjei Agyei-Baah

sick of reflections the full moon transforms into something else
   - Alan Catlin

small-hours-train the pink suitcase of moon shadows
   - Alan Summers

night sky my smartphone's blank screen
   - Ana Drobot

a pot of tea my small brother brewing plans
   - Anne Curran

in between the thunderclaps the clink of mother's bangles
   - Archana Kapoor Nagpal

small things their own story worn trowel
   - ayaz daryl nielsen

crossing the footbridge no fish no ducks
   - b brazill

equinox the yin and yang of my mood
   - Barbara Kaufmann

summer silence grapes to raisins plums to prunes
   - Barbara Tate

ironing clothes outside a falling star
   - Billy Antonio

last game of the season finally tossing the perfect pitch
   - Blue Waters

a ball stopped on the boundary line no players
   - Božidar Å kobić - ÄŒika BoÅ¡ko

vines climbing out of their space into mine
   - C. Robin Janning

almost full moon what am i waiting for
   - Caroline Skanne

writing haiku in the study's corner a spider spins
   - Chen-ou Liu

many voices none are his mockingbird
   - Christine Rose Sansone

allowing myself to cry cloudburst
   - Christine L. Villa

at the end of his leash my fear of dogs
   - Dave Read

folding unfolding the origami of monarch butterflies
   - Debbie Strange

less birdsong now at dawn coyotes howl in the night
   - Deirdre Silverman

coaxing my modesty over the edge hot tub
   - Devin Harrison

a riverbird it sings i listen
   - Emmanuel Kalusian

the child's hand placed over mine we crack the egg
   - Ferris Gilli

intense as an artist she tattoos me for radiation
   - Frank Judge

sunday with sauce love
   - Grace Celeste

the tension around my tension tension
   - Helen Buckingham

whenever I forget myself I remember what matters
   - Jack Goldman

heat wave do lilacs dream of rain
   - Joan Corr

amazing how many stars fit inside my windowpane
   - Joan McNerney

night on the mountain one thousand wishes
   - Joann Grisetti

newsboy cast in bronze still delivering
   - Joanna M. Weston

morning glory between then and then
   - Kath Abela Wilson

reading a poem in her eyes
   - Kumarendra Mallick

after rain the moon stashed away in clay pots
   - Lavana Kray

springgrasshergreendressdisappears
   -Lech Szeglowski

autumn rain the old clock stopped again
   - Magdalena Banaszkiewicz

the year i was born the howl of wolves and poets
   - Marianne Paul

falling into your arms again western wind
   - Mark E. Brager

quiet splash just by our boat Perseids night
   - Marta Chocilowska

forgetting to call my mother who won’t remember
   - Miriam Sagan

love so many hearts on the napkin
   - Nadezhda Stanilova

red morning sky fiery forecast i take my hat
   -Nancy Gabriel

autumn mist the gardener scrapes the last clouds
   - Nicole Pottier

a crow between the shadow and the sun
   - Paresh Tiwari

in the dunes awaiting the full moon
   - Pat Floyd

painting a river i drop in a waterfall  
   - Pat Geyer

rain kiss lasting into the dark
   - Petruta Ionescu

falling kite early sunset
   - Pravat Kumar Padhy

run down estate the weeds in flower
   - Rachel Sutcliffe

start with inhale end exhaling life between
   - Rob Sullivan

sun warming a boulder as if it knew the lizard
   - Robert Henry Poulin

after each piano note the meow of a cat
   - Rosa Clement

blending colors the blackbird's song
   - Shloka Shankar

our conversation drifts cottonwood fluff
   - Sondra J. Byrnes

on our backs in the driveway shooting stars
   - Susan Lang

shar-pei's folds under the hem of her dress
   - Theresa Cancro

years of separation stone circle
   - Tim Gardiner

laughing fat country morning corn pancakes
   - Tina Wright

school bus a child with her first painted yellow sun
   - Vibeke Laier

handkerchief waving in the wind no word for goodbye
   - Virginia Popescu

oh sunflowers a whole field looking up
   - Yvonne Fisher

meditation teacher talks talks talks talks talks about silence
   - Zee Zahava

Saturday, August 1, 2015

Brass Bell: Barbara Kaufmann


Welcome to the August 2015 issue of brass bell, featuring poems by Barbara Kaufmann


porch light
late into evening
my father's cigar

first rose the softness of a newborn's skin

rose moon
flooding the bedroom
with her essence

spring breeze
all the prom queens
wave

morning stretch
the irises reaching
for the sky

as if cherry blossoms aren't enough a day moon

spring cleaning
finding who I was
stuck in the closet

no butterflies the breeze comes up empty

hospital waiting room
an ant on the floor
walks back and forth

new grandchild
a pink flower blooms
in our garden

awakening
to the afternoon sun
all that is green in me

running low
on elbow grease
the old pot scrubber

dawn alchemy
a bare branch 
becoming a dove

so 
many
snow-
flakes
I
lose
count
of 
my 
blessings

following 
a white-tailed deer and a boy
deep into a daydream

close to home
salt air and scrub pines
on the trail

even now
her fingers remember
silver rosary beads

one bright spot
in the hospital waiting room
a red jacket

that much closer 
to the sunrise
a treetop starling

choir of irises
singing the blues
no bees

nothing to hold on to
when looking at the stars
I fall up

tweeting
their latest sightings
birdwatchers

worry lines
the scent of chamomile
smoothing my brow

a still lake
goslings glide
among the clouds

night rain
the latest bad news
drummed into my head

a siren scream —
the swelling sound
of joint pain

birdsong
lifting the sun up
in three notes

red sunrise
a cardinal looks at me
looking at him

somewhere
under a pile of winter
a crocus

moonrise
she eases her body
into crescent pose

Barbara Kaufmann, a retired nurse, can be found (or lost) in the woods, gardens and beaches that are near her home on Long Island, in  New York. Armed with a camera and notebook, she chases butterflies and other ethereal things, including poems. She has been writing for many years but recently (2012) began to write Japanese short forms. Her blog is:
wabi sabi~~~poems and images 




















Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Brass Bell: Alan Summers


Welcome to the July 2015 issue of brass bell, featuring poems by Alan Summers


calandria — every place
its own kind of sun
housebound
I take an evening stroll
through the postcard

the longest night
of a longer day
our broken moons
a lost email
crosses over

a cat picking
at discarded fast food
this night without you
filling with the hum
of regular rain

a small death
the cracked shell
of a snail
now this delay
at the train station

sometimes
before falling in love
with my wife
again and again
the cries of swifts

asthma attack —
pulling her outside
away from friends
her breathing steadies
while my own trembles

these rocks
too float among clouds
looking for something

white gravel
each day the monks
rake ripples in time

dandelion fluff
I lose count of my time
on this earth

a packet of souls
the day moon becomes
a harbinger

Khamsin winds
the piano tunes itself
in a war conflict

wind-spun flakes . . .
a child's world escapes
the snow globe

a lamb's cry
scudding clouds over
the cemetery wall

hunter's moon
the runes of mice
in its wake

after rain midnight dreams a hedgehog

Gare du Nord shifting art deco snow

twilight on snow shadows deepen the grip of stars

this small ache and all the rain too robinsong

dark news
the comfort
of crows

stick moon
we move our bones
in unison

hard frost —
the snail-hammerings
of a song thrush

night of small colour
a part of the underworld
becomes one heron

the names of rain
a blackbird's subsong
into dusk

cloud mountain
she screams her daughter's name
into the month of march

hotel room drawer
one of Issa's insects takes
charge of the reading

lullaby of rain
another pinch of saffron
in the pumpkin soup

night-tide
the rook takes back
its moon


* * *

Alan Summers is a Japan Times award-winning writer and Pushcart Prize nominated poet. He likes French wine, Japanese whisky, Premium Sake, French and Italian cooking, and authentic Indian curries (but not all of them at once), while watching bad Science Fiction or tearful Zombie romantic comedies. Alan runs With Words, with his wife, for online courses and live events. Website: http://area17.blogspot.com