brass bell: a haiku journal

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

Saturday, May 1, 2021

edible haiku

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

The theme of this month’s collection is edible haiku. Enjoy the feast!

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

mango season
sharing pleasure
with flies
   Adjei Agyei-Baah

bing cherries
one kissed
my lips
   ai li

fruit cake
your recipe
died with you
   ai li

picking up crumbs
seeing you doing the same
all those years past
   Alan Bern

warm bread —
you hold me
on the back deck
   Alan Bern

low slung river
thoughts of home
and lemon trout
   Alan Summers

pot luck dinner
another box
of chocolates
   Alexis Rotella

granddaughter’s joy
cotton candy
all over her face
   Amauri Solon

pomegranate —
my first lesson about
the red planet
   Ana Drobot

mom’s black cherry cupcakes
bitter-sweet taste
never forgotten
   Angela Giordano

toasted almonds
my granddaughter is greedy —
tender kisses
   Angela Giordano

landlocked Indiana
can’t find a decent kipper
anywhere
   Antonia Matthew

spring opening
my favorite farm stand
packed with arugula
   Barbara Kaufmann

slowing down
this year I plant
a little less basil
   Barbara Kaufmann

driftwood
the sizzle of marshmallows
at midnight
   Barbara Tate

wabi? sabi?
I scratch my head
and eat some wasabi
   Bill Waters

summer woods . . .
beneath the leaf mold
mushrooms
   Bill Waters

broken chocolate squares
shape-shift into sunflowers
on my yellow plate
   Blue Waters

last drops . . .
the end of a row
of rainbow chard
   Brad Bennett

winter dawn
spreading blackberry jam
to the crusts
   Brad Bennett

beans
straight from the can
this solitude
   Bryan Rickert

deli order
a little Yiddish
goes a long way
   Bryan Rickert

peanut butter
after all these years
adding jelly
   C. Robin Janning

rice . . .
how the earth grows
dinner
   C. Robin Janning

grating carrots
even my scraped knuckles
are zen
   Carole Johnston

we drive twenty miles
winding down the river for
Shaker lemon pie
   Carole Johnston

ice cream
rum raisin and ginger
that day in New Hope
   Carole Johnston

morning light
slipping a lychee fruit
out of its skin
   Caroline Skanne

tenth year of exile
the mixed smell of dark coffee
and Chinese fried dough
   Chen-ou Liu

quarantine breakfast
my kids practice sword fighting
with baguettes
   Chen-ou Liu

fruit salad
in bechamel sauce
the taste of raw celery
   Christina Chin

travel gifts
the caramel aroma
of strawberry mochi
   Christina Chin

fragrance of mother
dill potatoes
herring
   Christina Martin

splash of orange
headlight nasturtium
party salad
   Christina Martin

eyes closed
on my hot cross bun
proper butter
   Christina Martin

childhood cereal
reading the box
like a newspaper
   Christina Sng

love or hate
there is no in-between
durians
   Christina Sng

nonverbal fight
the hard chopping
of carrots
   Christine L. Villa

day moon
cilantro-lime marinade
on everything
   Claire Vogel Camargo

quiet evening
chestnuts grumble
in the pan
   Daniela Misso

garden solitude
only the hidden eyes
of seed potatoes
   Debbie Strange

our neighbor
feeds it while we’re gone . . .
sourdough starter
   Debbie Strange

autumn flames
we gather rose hips
for our muesli
   Debbie Strange

root cellar
the darkness lit
by jelly jars
   Debbie Strange

street corn
tourists’ wrists
drip with butter
   Deborah Burke Henderson

dining en plein air
yellow jackets hover . . .
syrup on my elbow
   Deborah Burke Henderson

surfside tacos
the roar
of motorcycles
   Deborah P Kolodji

crystal dish
on a torn lace tablecloth
pickled crab apples
   Deborah P Kolodji

al fresco —
fly on the menu
be careful
   Donna Fleischer

false promises —
the pizza dough
is not rising
   Elisa Allo

birthday cake . . .
the chocolate scent
hangs over the roses
   Elisa Allo

thanksgiving day
my father lets me carve
the turkey
   Florin C. Ciobica

before the trip
finishing the berries
in expired yogurt
   Glenn Ingersoll

the old granola bar
won’t be going
on this trip
   Glenn Ingersoll

gallery salad bar —
he draws the line
at nasturtiums
   Helen Buckingham

cod and chips
reduced to chips
a post-lockdown gull frenzy
   Helen Buckingham

breaking a fast
the aroma of desi roti
from window to window
   Hifsa Ashraf

morning sunlight
on a banana leaf
mango chutney
   Hifsa Ashraf

kneading flour
in each fold
her fading fingerprints
   Hifsa Ashraf

birds and butterflies
search fields for fruit and berries
spring rain soaks the farm
   Isabelle Loverro

ice cream shop offerings
my decision processes
still frozen
   Jay Friedenberg

in the hotel room
after our wedding . . .
chocolate covered strawberries!
   Jay Friedenberg

this almond —
the weight of
a honey bee
   Jill Lange

home alone eating less . . .
backyard birds
eating more
   Jill Lange

grateful for the bakery
always taking my orders
for hamantashen
   Jill Lange

flash of red among
green-black olives
lonely pimento
   Jim Mazza

all that remains
are the toothpicks —
pintxo memories
   Jim Mazza

salt-crusted sea bass
set aflame with raki
table-side floorshow
   Jim Mazza

retired guys chewing
on politics and donuts
neighborhood diner
   Jo Balistreri

first tomato slice of summer
a welcome bullseye
on my open-face sandwich
   Joan Leotta

community food bank
each banana comes with
free fruit flies
   John J. Dunphy

fundamentalist church potluck
pastor removes
the deviled eggs
   John J. Dunphy

thunk of blackberries
in my metal pail —
the promise of pie
   Julie Bloss Kelsey

yet another attempt
at baked eggplant —
I dredge up a smile
   Julie Bloss Kelsey

open-air market
a faint whiff of cantaloupe
through my face mask
   Julie Bloss Kelsey

shared dessert
on the rose leaf a drop
of raspberry coulis
   Karen Hoy

printing each menu
on edible paper
appetizers
   Kath Abela Wilson

edible haiku
I write with icing
on the cupcakes
   Kath Abela Wilson

one omelet steaming
garlic and basil fragrance
lures the dinner guests
   Katya Sabaroff Taylor

almost too cute to cook . . .
potato with eyelashes
& a toothy smile
   kris moon

ripe plums
picked under a half moon
I saved you some
   Kristen Lindquist

morning heat
more blueberries in my bowl
than cereal
   Kristen Lindquist

fogged in
craving pea soup
for lunch
   Kristen Lindquist

first birthday . . .
cherry blossom pink
icing on her cake
   Lakshmi Iyer

not confessing
at the checkout
grapes i ate while shopping
   Laurinda Lind

calico bass
the taste of the lake
i grew up on
   Laurinda Lind

exhausted by flavor
by the time i reach
the pit of the peach
   Laurinda Lind

steaming artichokes
the layers
of that marriage
   Laurinda Lind

ripe cherries . . .
dad only eats
the bruised ones
   Lucia Cardillo

the first white grape
from the garden . . .
a bee chases me
   Lucia Cardillo

after gym
detour to the supermarket . . .
sweet tooth
   Madhuri Pillai

more liqueur
than chocolate . . .
my secret stash
   Madhuri Pillai

growing up poor
potatoes and more
potatoes
   Marianne Paul

sizzling frying pan
mother’s love of burnt
burgers
   Marianne Paul

rest stop sandwich
swallows picking bugs
off hot fenders
   Marietta McGregor

Santa Monica Pier
hot dogs with a side
of razzle dazzle
   Marietta McGregor

the flavor
of a wild lawn
dandelion greens
   Marilyn Ashbaugh

tugging my sleeve
as if to remind me
wild raspberries
   Marilyn Ashbaugh

bowl of kumquats
the bitter and
the sweet
   Marilyn Ashbaugh

late summer
the last plump tomato
picked from the vine
   Marilyn Humbert

birthday cake
candles dripping wax . . .
minutes pass into days
   Marilyn Humbert

campfire coals
the smoky aroma
of caught trout
   Mark Miller

fish & chips
peeking with one eye
a seagull
   Marta Chocilowska

all is lost
you think and suddenly
a fudge cake
   Marta Chocilowska

Nepalese dal bhat —
lentils, rice, greens —
travel banned, I miss my friends
   Michael G. Smith

blending my
morning smoothie
and the news
   Michael G. Smith

barefooted children
spitting watermelon seeds
midsummer picnic
   Mimi Foyle

cooking
with my mother
please, can I lick the spoon?
   Olivier Schopfer

fruit cake
feeling like
a kid again
   Olivier Schopfer

crabapple jelly
one wild tree
one small batch
   Pat Davis

making popcorn
our conversation
lightens
   Pat Davis

tug-of-war
drumsticks
outnumbered by kids
   Pat Davis

a taste from
my blue-collar days —
sugared almonds
   Paul Beech

bonding time
fried green tomatoes
late at night
   Pris Campbell

caramel soufflé
he confesses his love
before it falls
   Pris Campbell

leaving tomorrow
we walk the tide line slurping
two-finger poi
   Pris Campbell

a thousand noodles
stir in the steaming bowl
the same folds
   Ron Scully

late innings
the smell of steamed hotdogs
and beer breath cheers
   Ron Scully

colorful cakes
a butterfly and I
window shopping
   Rosa Clement

cat procession
the girl goes in front
holding the sardines
   Rosa Clement

poet’s dry spell —
on the withered plant
the ripest tomato
   Ruth Yarrow

mountain windowsill
through the honey jar
sunset
   Ruth Yarrow

bunched up
in anxiety
bananas
   Sherry Grant

in thin slices
taste of the sea
— oyster omelette
   Sherry Grant

served up in sweet squares
childhood memories
— pineapple cakes
   Sherry Grant

summer camp lunchtime
spelling words out of
half-eaten pretzels
   Stacey Murphy

behind the pickles
lonely, mad, and forgotten
sour cream turns bitter
   Stacey Murphy

chili cook-off —
she spills the beans on my
secret ingredient
   Susan Burch

in the pancake batter a shapeless haiku
   Susan Burch

my name spelled wrong retirement cake
   Susan Burch

hot dog eating contest
I get sick
of competing with you
   Susan Burch

giant drops of rain
fried mushrooms
on toast
   Ted Sherman

winter morning
the gentle tap tap tap
of boiling eggs
   Ted Sherman

new friend
leaving the last
chocolate truffle
   Theresa A. Cancro

smooth jazz . . .
a slice of cantaloupe
off the knife
   Theresa A. Cancro

chilly morning
piercing the skin
of my cream of wheat
   Theresa A. Cancro

wild youth
i used to pull my
food from the earth
   Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

bowl of soup
when i just
need a hug
   Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

no regrets
i eat the whole
pint of ice cream
   Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

harvest moon
drips of persimmon
on her chin
   Tom Bierovic

all the kernels
that failed to pop
first dates
   Tom Bierovic

midday
for good measure
a spoonful of honey
   Tom Clausen

poached eggs
eye to eye with the waitress
“i like them runny”
   Tom Clausen

between meals
it comes down to
a few triscuits
   Tom Clausen

The Vampire Cookbook
recipes for blood sausage
without garlic
   Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

alphabet soup
“S” is for the curve
of a heron’s neck
   Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

dappled sunshine
zucchini blossoms
in the omelet
   Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

first wild strawberry
the memories i share
with my sister
   Vibeke Laier

a table for one
the sparrow picking up
my bread crumbs
   Vibeka Laier

mother piles sugar
on her mashed potatoes
Red Hat Society
   Wilda Morris

sloppy joe meat
in the waffle batter —
successful experiment
   Wilda Morris

the taste of
sweet summer raspberries
my mother singing opera
   Yvonne Fisher

pandemic Passover
no seder this year
matzo and butter
   Yvonne Fisher

big bowl of pasta
(in the dream)
tired of my low-carb diet
   Zee Zahava

animal cracker
biting off the tiger’s head
releases my roar
   Zee Zahava

Thursday, April 1, 2021

haiku happiness

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

This month’s collection focuses on Things That Make Us Happy … small things, major things, long ago memories, and current moments.

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

Wishing you a sense of peace and happiness as you read the following haiku . . . .

dusk
the village lit up
in fireflies
   Adjei Agyei-Baah

sparklers
on the birthday cake
the smiles
   ai li

your proposal
the clouds
under my feet
   ai li

playing soccer
in the alley at night
nearly noiseless
   Alan Bern

pillow fight
a feather escapes
to the moon
   Alan Summers

I starch my crinolines
in the bathroom sink
spring in bloom
   Alexis Rotella

morning geese
I eavesdrop on
their conversation
   Alexis Rotella

hand in hand we go
whistling our song
wedding anniversary
   Amauri Solon

nothing more beautiful
than to hold you in my arms
little baby
   Angela Giordano

to stay at home
with books and good music —
sweet at night
   Angela Giordano

black and white goat
takes apple slices carefully
from my fingers
   Antonia Matthew

morning stroll
I hum a tune
to my old dog
   Barbara Tate

cotton candy
the taste of a rainbow
at the fair
   Barbara Tate

cloudburst!
running for shelter
laughing
   Bill Waters

out in the rain
that girl who twirls
her umbrella
   Bill Waters

big sister
sipping warm beer through a straw
the life of the party
   Blue Waters

summer days
turning the crank
on the ice cream churn
   Brad Bennett

moss between
maple tree roots
I wriggle my toes
   Brad Bennett

line cast
I settle into
the rhythm of waves
   Bryan Rickert

the same poem
I write every year
first snow
   Bryan Rickert

my brother called . . .
speaking of simple things we
felt our connection
   C. Robin Janning

hyacinth
a second stem of flowers
fills the pot
   C. Robin Janning

in the hemlocks
last year’s ceramic rabbit
stands tall
   C. Robin Janning

four days alone
silent journey . . . who knows
what may be found?
   Carole Johnston

wren song
at dawn the dog and I
stop to listen
   Carole Johnston

mud on your face leaning over the dahlias
   Caroline Skanne

as if seeing yellow for the first time primrose
   Caroline Skanne

in dim light
the silence between us
her heartbeat against mine
   Chen-ou Liu

knots of green
each day a little bigger
my apple tree buds
   Christina Martin

dad and my daughter
popping bubble wrap together
my best memory of him
   Christina Sng

curled up safe
under my duvet
small dumpling
   Christina Sng

holiday playlist
dancing in the kitchen
with a spatula
   Christine L. Villa

graduation
daring to pick
a yellow car
   Claire Vogel Camargo

blue waves
loosening my hair
in the wind
   Daniela Misso

prairie winter
a rainbow of tulips
at the market
   Debbie Strange

country school
tumbleweeds race
us to the bus
   Debbie Strange

a blue kite
meets the sky
running girl takes flight
   Deborah Burke Henderson

twin boys
discover belly buttons
and each other
   Deborah Burke Henderson

split open —
sweet potato
wakes me
   Donna Fleischer

autumn moon —
“I love you” escapes
from my lips
   Elisa Allo

plum picking
head-to-head
with a squirrel
   Helen Buckingham

as if from nowhere honeysuckle
   Helen Buckingham

first sight
of the crescent moon
baby’s smile
   Hifsa Ashraf

a child is born
family members rejoice
rain and fog have cleared
   Isabelle Loverro

inked diary
the self assured strokes
of my younger self
   Jackie Chou

violets . . .
any time
anywhere
   Jill Lange

robin
for a moment
on my Adirondack chair
   Jill Lange

alone at the window
i await
kingfisher’s return
   Jim Mazza

wind-slanted rain
with a great swoosh
my hair blooms pink
   Jo Balistreri

bluebird returned today
to the house we built him —
a welcome neighbor
   Joan Leotta

blackberries
with yogurt
for lunch
   Joan McNerney

alley behind my book shop
the feral cat accepts
its first pet
   John J. Dunphy

online discovery
the book I thought worthless
earmarked to pay my utilities
   John J. Dunphy

windy fells —
the best coffee ever
out of a plastic mug
   Karen Hoy

thumbs up
through each car window
our second dose
   Kath Abela Wilson

vaccinated visit
abracadabra
our grandson’s a foot taller
   Kath Abela Wilson

today my new knee
and I took a walk —
we visited trees!
   Kathleen Kramer

a friend, a scone
a cup of tea —
poem without words
   Kathleen Kramer

into a hot bath
I lay my winter body
and watch the steam rise
   Katya Sabaroff Taylor

three cats just sitting
on my summer screened-in porch
with no to-do list
   Katya Sabaroff Taylor

beret borrowed
from an old friend
warm with memories
   kris moon

the warmth of the cup
as i reminisce
by the fire
   kris moon

daydreaming
in father’s loud laughter
I cuddle up
   Lakshmi Iyer

tangerines . . .
I share the sun
with a fisherman
   Lucia Cardillo

soulmates
the quiet intimacy
of our long life
   Marianne Paul

double-dutch
the bigger girls cheer
me on
   Marianne Paul

big wheel —
riding my sister’s
old bike
   Marianne Paul

lifting my mood
the uplifted flips
of a wagtail
   Marietta McGregor

fresh sfogliatelle
the unfolding intimacy
of our layers
   Marietta McGregor

face timing . . .
an iris
opens up
   Marilyn Ashbaugh

hula hoops
she teaches me
again
   Marilyn Ashbaugh

childhood memory
a bag of clementines
on my birthday
   Marta Chocilowska

beach breeze
on my lips the salt
of your skin
   Maya Daneva

bonsai elm’s first prune
anxious days
new leaves!
   Michael G. Smith

mushy banana
just right
for bread
   Michael G. Smith

a day to myself
no responsibilities
taking life easy
   Mimi Foyle

a perfect morning
sunlight dances through crystal
spattering rainbows
   Mimi Foyle

from branch
to heart
blackbird’s song
   Mirela Brăilean

hot springs —
in the ancient tub
my ancient toes
   Miriam Sagan

Grateful Dead
cover concert –
my tie dye dancing
   Miriam Sagan

cajun dancing
at Tipitina’s
washboard rhythm
   Nancy Shires

redone x-ray
shows i’m okay
sweet wine
   Nancy Shires

summer lightning
the first time he placed
his hand on mine
   Nancy Shires

evening snow
the smell
of a newly printed book
   Olivier Schopfer

just a walk
in the park
children blowing bubbles
   Olivier Schopfer

spring splurge
at the supermarket . . .
daffodils
   Pat Davis

spring woods
alone with
everything
   Pat Davis

cobalt blue
my budgie chosen with Dad
I name him Billy
   Paul Beech

three thousand feet . . .
now I bank the glider
and dive
   Paul Beech

late winter . . .
just enough light
for a cuckoo to sing
   Pragya Vishnoi

sha do be do be do
band bus rumbling home
through the night
   Pris Campbell

fried green tomatoes
my father and I snack
late in the night
   Pris Campbell

his old letters
feelings come rushing back
as if yesterday
   Pris Campbell

my new glasses
the landscape is all
updated
   Rosa Clement

spring afternoon
my hammock fills
with me
   Rosa Clement

a new hummingbird
between us a small
conversation
   Rosa Clement

summertime
tiny cold waves
tickle my feet
   Sherry Grant

behind closed eyes
her carousel horse
takes to the sky
   Simon Hanson

spring shower . . .
unwrapping lavender
soaps
   Theresa A. Cancro

perseid shower . . .
the aroma of popcorn
popping
   Theresa A. Cancro

i stop my worries
join my cat at the window
to watch the new birds
   Tina Wright

peepers rise from antifreeze
loud oddly soothing
first warm night the pond
   Tina Wright

giggles back
and giggles forth
tire swing
   Tom Bierovic

scent of neatsfoot
the hand-me-down mitt
makes another catch
   Tom Bierovic

back to my book . . .
the embrace of a world
within a world
   Tom Clausen

no names
but there they are
early greens
   Tom Clausen

zoo yoga
a flamingo poised
on one leg
   Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

dragons glide
through the clouds —
kites
   Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

butterfly
how many ways to touch
a poppy’s heart
   Vibeke Laier

my neighbor’s baby
grabs my nose
laughs out loud
   Yvonne Fisher

three-year-old friend
calls me Yonne
leaves out the v
   Yvonne Fisher

slipping quietly
into your room
YES — you are still breathing
   Zee Zahava

Friday, March 5, 2021

haiku about women and girls

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

Poems arrived from Australia, Canada, Denmark, Ecuador, Ghana, India, Italy, Japan, Poland, Singapore, the United Kingdom, and the United States

grandma’s dimple
her only treasure
she never passed on
   Adjei Agyei-Baah

scent of lavender
mother is early
tonight
   ai li

pausing on cool tiles
my old mother’s feet
bare
   Alan Bern

half-sister
do you still drive in Kalgoorlie
those gold mining trucks?
   Alan Summers

another birthday
the only gift she wants . . .
her mother’s voice
   Amy Losak

full moon:
the belly of my daughter
more and more round
   Angela Giordano

mud under my fingernail
my fastidious aunt
gasping turns away
   Antonia Matthew

she understands
the language of frogs
summer wind
   Barbara Kaufmann

party of one
double dipping the salsa
because I can
   Barbara Tate

public library
the little girl skips
to the door
   Bill Waters

my mother-in-law
knows me better
than my own mother could
   Blue Waters

middle sister
resisted rules and boxes…
hung her own stars
   C. Robin Janning

story circle
twelve women conjuring up
our mothers
   Carole Johnston

between dandelions her one-handed cartwheel
   Caroline Skanne

vigil candlelight
flickers in a woman’s eyes
No Means No
   Chen-ou Liu

under the table
small girl is the cat
not coming out
   Christina Martin

kaleidoscope
girlhood memories
of the carnival
   Christina Sng

yellow layer cakes
little me cooking with mom
and Betty Crocker
   Claire Vogel Camargo

on the hill
blooming almond trees . . .
my friend’s lace dress
   Daniela Misso

vole tracks in snow
the tiny handwriting
of my big sister
   Debbie Strange

paperwhites —
mum’s gift of springtime
to me each winter
   Deborah Burke Henderson

kindergartener —
grandmother smoothing her hair
into place
   Donna Fleischer

warm day
grandma still knits
a wool scarf
   Eufemia Griffo

I conjure Mum’s hand
as the snowlit branches
close in around me
   Helen Buckingham

stacked stones
the steps I must climb
to my goddess self
   Jackie Chou

a childhood friend
sends a photo of us —
matching Easter outfits
   Jill Lange

from her rings
now on my hands
my mother’s stories encircle me
   Joan Leotta

my beautiful Irish mother walking
gray streets of Brooklyn
her green island gone
   Joan McNerney

street corner
unkempt panhandler shows me
her Purple Heart
   John J. Dunphy

another shade of red
tangled in my hair brush
my daughter
   Julie Bloss Kelsey

train to catch
shaving just a leg patch
for ripped jeans
   Karen Hoy

from my daughter
I learn to mother
myself
   Kath Abela Wilson

today, needing to be empty
I went to the lake
and wept until I was
   Kathleen Kramer

distant train whistle
water dripping from the eaves
daughter’s empty bed
   Katya Sabaroff Taylor

all through the frosty night
in my tiny granddaughter’s fist
my finger
   kris moon

daughter's hands
still hold mine at midnight
her thirtieth spring
   Lakshmi Iyer

my mother’s mother’s
tuneless tune
I sing it too
   Laurinda Lind

sisterhood
my sibling reminds me
who’s in charge
Lovette Carter

neighbour’s 94th . . .
coffee and cake
and her joie de vivre
   Madhuri Pillai

yesterday’s news
mama cuts out paper skirts
and we hula together
   Marianne Paul

feeding swans
my mother tells me
she mated for life
   Marietta McGregor

mother’s diary
a soft strand of hair
in tissue paper
   Marta Chocilowska

she knows
this wilderness trail
swaying ponytail
   Michael G. Smith

my fearless daughter
walks naked up the river
taming stone dragons
   Mimi Foyle

alligator pears —
my mother also
called avocados that
   Miriam Sagan

she consents
to tell her age —
in dog years
   Nancy Shires

job interview
mother’s union pin
on my blouse
   Pat Davis

moving week —
another piece of mother
is given away
   Pris Campbell

seesaw
my daughter rises
into her laughter
   Ron Scully

donut
biting in
her lip ring
   Ruth Yarrow

angry daughter
reflecting
my younger self
   Sherry Grant

nail polish glitter
as if she needed
anymore sparkle
   Simon Hanson

Aunt Shirley’s swear jar
overflows with deposits
when it’s bingo day
   Stacey Murphy

lovely brown eyes
so rarely seen
mom’s ugly glasses
   Sue Norvell

how she folded herself
into a paper crane —
mom’s suicide note
   Susan Burch

flung back
to childhood
my old swing set
   Theresa A. Cancro

motherless
i pull the moon in
a little closer
   Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

arriving by horse
Grandma built a fire in the
schoolhouse stove first thing
   Tina Wright

ready
for a new week
my wife’s sourdough
   Tom Clausen

years between
mother’s grave and me
a path of sunlight
   Vibeke Laier

she took my hand
I never felt
so understood
   Yvonne Fisher

circling her thumbs
grandmother keeps
my world spinning
   Zee Zahava

Friday, February 5, 2021

Colorful Haiku

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

Poems arrived from Australia, Brazil, Canada, Denmark, Ecuador, Ghana, India, Italy, New Zealand, the Philippines, Poland, Singapore, Switzerland, the United Kingdom, and the United States

cherry blossom
carpets the neighborhood
the street sweeper hesitates
   Adjei Agyei-Baah

egg yolks
my
winter sun
   ai li

kelp line
near the edge where sea colors
change blues
   Alan Bern

dried persimmons
we scare away tigers
who come for tea
   Alan Summers

pastel pond
the iris of her eyes
staring back at me
   Amy Losak

new dye —
the orange of the sunset
on my hair
   Angela Giordano

winter oak leaves
brown talons grasp
falling snow
   Antonia Matthew

all aflutter
planning the next trip
yellow butterfly
   Barbara Kaufmann

fog
wrapped in shades of gray
I’m alone
   Barbara Tate

winter rain
pooling
on pewter-colored ice
   Bill Waters

first fairy tale
my daughter refuses
the red apple
   Billy Antonio

red fleece vest
blue shirt beneath
i feel quite purple
   Blue Waters

pitch black
something croaks
in the Florida night
   Brad Bennett

pots of green moss
punctuate the garden . . .
wicked winter wind
   C. Robin Janning

cherry pink
sunrise bites a chunk
out of grey
   Carole Johnston

roses a deeper crimson melting frost
   Caroline Skanne

a red butterfly
from blossom to blossom
her scent lingers
   Chen-ou Liu

grey skies
shouts of fishermen
in orange
   Christina Martin

spider silk
strands of silver
on my skin
   Christina Sng

you are my sunshine
my only sunshine . . . smiling
in mom’s gold chair
   Claire Vogel Camargo

persimmons
golden crowns fill
with snow
   Debbie Strange

raging snowstorm —
framed against the window
a white amaryllis
   Deborah Burke Henderson

expecting a black cat
I see a mouse . . .
the day my luck changed
   Deborah P Kolodji

red onion
sliced into rings
of light
   Donna Fleischer

the long red-earth road
a water buffalo
jangles homeward
   Hannah Mahoney

blackout
in motion
flying ants
   Helen Buckingham

snowflakes are falling
the garden is bare
red tulips asleep
   Isabel Loverro

indigo rain
the blue scribbles
of my life story
   Jackie Chou

burgundy fields
we make a toast
to our golden years
   Jay Friedenberg

istanbul street vendors
sell scarlet pomegranate juice
to sunburned tourists
   Jim Mazza

rusty door springs red-winged blackbirds
   Jo Balistreri

small red boots
splashing
big puddles
   Joan McNerney

in winter’s grasp —
two more inches
of grey hair
   Julie Bloss Kelsey

lavender lipstick
my smile the mix
of mother and daughter
   Kath Abela Wilson

on the deck railing
an orange half & an oriole . . .
suddenly, one flies away!
   Kathleen Kramer

red geranium
green watering can, you are
so sure of yourselves
   Katya Sabaroff Taylor

brindle . . .
the dog becomes
one with the bush
   Madhuri Pillai

dinosaur prints
the little one paints
her hands green
   Marianne Paul

rising out
of the wet subway steps
a red umbrella
   Mark Miller

frosty sunup
chimneys send pink puffs
each to the other
   Marta Chocilowska

viridian hue
sweetgrass
waves from the canvas
   Melissa Hamilton

sun-saturated
balls of magenta orchids
punctuate rock cliffs
   Mimi Foyle

glossy black chicken
tow-headed toddler
eye to eye
   Miriam Sagan

winter morning
on the kitchen table
a bowl full of oranges
   Olivier Schopfer

a forest dreaming
in the language of crows
her mauve shawl
   Pragya Vishnoi

wee green snake
my first grade sweetheart
offers his heart
   Pris Campbell

strawberries for sale
their redness vanishes
along the road
   Rosa Clement

rush hour sunset
flower vendor swings red glads
in a slow circle
   Ruth Yarrow

the red kayak
could be anywhere
evening mist
   Sandi Pray

red roses
she feeds to the bin
Valentine’s Day
   Sherry Grant

town fountain
some of the passers-by
in rainbow mist
   Simon Hanson

pink, lavender, orange dahlias
in the snowy mailbox
garden catalog’s cover
   Sue Norvell

skipping stones . . .
remembering the blue
in dad’s eyes
   Theresa A. Cancro

fuchsia twilight
sometimes i
forget to breathe
   Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

her shadow on the
white wall not as black as my
cat lapping water
   Tina Wright

black-eyed pigs
with silver wings —
art deco socks
   Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

water painting
enough color for
the pink roses
   Vibeke Laier

I dream in color
hugs, no masks
blue water all around
   Yvonne Fisher

green light
holding hands
mother and i skip across the street
   Zee Zahava