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

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

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

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

haiku about the year 2020

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

“How did you experience the year 2020?” That is the question I posed to a number of haiku poets. Here are some of their responses … a collective portrait of the ordinary, as well as the extraordinary, moments from the year that has recently ended.

Poems arrived from Australia, Brazil, Canada, England, Japan, the Philippines, Poland, Singapore, Switzerland, the United Kingdom, and the United States


a fly
on jam
my day begins
    ai li

learning to cross arms
again
and hug myself
    Alan Bern

overgrown bamboo the cat masks up
    Alan Summers

rainy thursday
no flowers, no meetings
the year ends
    Amauri Solon

leaves soften
the wind
almost lilac time
    Anne Elise Burgevin

on my walk I greet
my neighbor’s goats and hens
the goats stare from their strange eyes
    Antonia Matthew

sunrise
I forgot to remember
to forget
    Barbara Tate

winter night
— from out of our wreath
a wren
    Bill Waters

quarantine days
no one to chase away
the pigeons
    Billy Antonio

apple blossoms
a child chalks hello
on her friend’s stoop
    Brad Bennett

winter again
I read poetry and
remember
    C. Robin Janning

days rewind
a furious music box
in a minor key
    Carole Johnston

the edge
of winter twilight . . .
masked old man
    Chen-ou Liu

wearing old glasses
optometrist
not open
    Christina Martin

movie night
every night
lockdown
    Christina Sng

doggy day care closed
sophie barks me away
from the computer
    Claire Vogel Camargo

solo hike
I lose track of myself
in the forest
    Debbie Strange

zoom party
guests arrive
half-dressed
    Deborah P Kolodji

the DNA
of distant summers
shared in waves
    Helen Buckingham

no cicada buzzes
around the red cloister . . .
this ancient temple
    Hideo Suzuki

last mile
a silver thermos
of hot apple cider
    Huck Tritsch

leaves masquerading
as birds on snowy branches
deceive me once more
    Jack Goldman

online
meeting more people
I will never meet
    Jane Williams

longing for a time
when there isn’t so much
longing
    Jim Mazza

in winter’s deep freeze
the green thrust of amaryllis
kitchen table
    Jo Balistreri

dark clouds
smudged
against grey sky
    Joan McNerney

bedroom quarantine —
I rearrange the furniture
in my mind
    Julie Bloss Kelsey

inventing
poinsettia pose
zoom yoga
    Kath Abela Wilson

an ordinary wednesday
except for these purple leaves
and the burial of my father
    Kathleen Kramer

sheltering in place
my blonde hair
turns white
    Marianne Paul

one by one
friends become avatars
self-isolation
    Marietta McGregor

hospital garden
a day lily opens
to the light
    Mark Miller

lone birthday
the skin of party balloons
so thin
    Marta Chocilowska

isolation my inner landscape
    Olivier Schopfer

doing jigsaws by myself
my sister’s chair
empty this year
    Sue Norvell

ipad screen . . .
my fingerprint across
the face of the moon
    Theresa A. Cancro

dust gathers
for once i am
fine with that
    Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

crab apples in bloom
a masked man tells me they
bring tennessee warblers
    Tina Wright

the sight
of people
turning away
    Tom Clausen

waiting for snow to arrive
that’s how much i miss
having company
    Zee Zahava

Brass Bell is taking a rest

The brass bell online haiku journal is resting now. It might 
wake up at a future date, and new issues might appear. But presently the best way to enjoy haiku on this site is to look through the archives. I hope you will, because there are so many lovely issues to read (or re-read). Wishing you all PEACE in this new year.
Zee

haiku about the ways we experienced November 18, 2017

Welcome to the December 2017 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal.

The theme is a single date . . .   all the poems were written on November 18, 2017


Poems have been received from Australia, Brazil, Canada, China, Croatia, Denmark, Ecuador, England, Ghana, India, Ireland, Italy, Pakistan, Poland, Singapore, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, and the United States

noon heat
two lizards
in a battle of tails
    - Adjei Agyei-Baah

long-distance call
the fog outside
thickening
    - Adrian Bouter

i am lonely today
my breath
my friend
    - ai li

two crows hop
one up a driveway
the other in the road
    - Alan Bern

late in the year . . .
I buy bright padlocks
for a backpack
    - Alan Summers

seeking shelter
the others
enjoy the rain
    - Almila Dukel

family gathering
there is one missing
around the table
    - Amauri Solon

watery eyes
lackluster leaves
tumble in the wind
    - Amy Losak

minted tea
my neighbour describes
his trip to Morocco
    - Andy McLellan

shorter day —
between bare branches
the first star
    - Angela Giordano

plaid blanket on the beach —
onion cake
and tangerines
    - Angiola Inglese

Saturday morning
cleaning house
I startle a mouse
    - Ann Christine Tabaka

happy angry goofy scary pumpkins in a row
    - Anne Elise Burgevin

meditation studio  . . .
the scent of basil
surrounds me
    - Archana Kapoor Nagpal

tornado warning
submitting poetry before
the electricity goes out
    - Barbara Tate

an afternoon
of windy rain
— and a migraine
    - Bill Waters

flu season
I kiss you good night
on your forehead
    - Brad Bennett

watching for snakes
finding instead two fat toads
in the hemlocks
    - C. Robin Janning

a standoff between
rain and snow
my mind as muddled
    - Carol Dilworth

daughter searches
for a unicorn
on ebay
    - Caroline Skanne

patches of fog
the things I remember
to forget
    - Chen-ou Liu

a painting day
how many colours
in orange
    - Christina Martin

grocery bags
the heaviness
of my heart
    - Christina Sng

waking thought:
two weeks ago
choosing dad's casket
    - Claire Vogel Camargo

dinner party
all the broken pottery
swept together
    - C.R. Harper

another night
without you
the unlit wick
    - Dan Schwerin

hunger moon
my shadow lingers
on the path
    - David He

breakfast with the birds
we watch each other
eat our oatmeal
    - David J. Kelly

ice-laden trees
a thousand brass bells
tinkle your name
    - Debbie Strange

new moon —
my bitter experience
left inside that suitcase
    - Doris Pascolo

way back home
the same clouds
as yesterday
    - Eufemia Griffo

someone with an artist's eye
must have scattered these leaves
on the brookside walk
    - Frank Robinson

reading the usual bad news
cat on my shoulder
fussing
    - Glenn Ingersoll

for a moment
her birthday candles
in the dark
    - Hannah Mahoney

hazy moon . . .
the fog reshapes
a street lamp
    - Hifsa Ashraf

uncertain haiku
discussed with my editor
let's just forget it
    - Jack Goldman

a spider crack
in the camera lens
shifting scenes
    - Jan Benson

trivial pursuit —
they say our team
gets all the easy ones
    - Jill Lange

lace curtains
sift moonlight . . .
mother makes pumpkin pie
    - Jo Balistreri

waiting at the clinic to hear my name
    - Joan McNerney

cutting his hair
in the kitchen —
how many years?
    - Joanna M. Weston

London gloom
my commuter train
enters the underworld
    - John Hawkhead

dusting off
the world atlas . . .
one perfect sycamore leaf
    - Julie Warther

haiku workshop
I act out an apple
doing a pirouette
    - Kath Abela Wilson

at the library
the boy helps his tiny sister
choose a book
    - Kathy Kramer

suddenly night comes
I have to turn on the light
to do the crossword
    - Katya Sabaroff Taylor

minus twenty
jump-starting the old car
with the old truck
    - kjmunro

middle of November
the first Christmas card
from far away
    - Lucia Cardillo

little linden
increasingly bare
don't you feel cold?
    -Lucia Fontana

snowflakes
cabbage butterflies
flicker past
    - Madhuri Pillai

after nap time —
angel food cake
and fairy tales
    - Maria Laura Valente

new moon —
deer hunters
at crack of dawn
    - Marilyn Fleming

a greeting card
from the one who got away . . .
wind-blown leaves
    - Marion Alice Poirier

among falling leaves la petite mort
    - Mark E. Brager

father's memory . . .
looking at the
distant stars
    - Marta Chocilowska

beautiful morning
the postman and the milkman
whistle the same tune
    - Martha Magenta

tall recycling bags
so much of my life
toss, toss
    - Marty Blue Waters

the soft light of dawn
moves from window to desk . . .
I must sit very still
    - Michael Flanagan

sun soaking my skin
I sit outside the kitchen
just enjoying life
    - Mimi Foyle

waiting . . .
among raindrops
his steps
    - Nina Kovacic  (translated by Durda Vukelic Rozic)

listening to Elvis
my body remembers
the fifties
    - Pat Davis

bright sunlight . . .
the beauty
of dust motes
    - Phyllis Lee

mid-afternoon
I stop surf gazing
to type this haiku
    - Pris Campbell

old scarecrow
losing himself
in the wind
    - Rachel Sutcliffe

silver anniversary
sky of brushed pewter
I leave for you
    - Ron Scully

highrise
mirrored windows
all sky and drifting cloud
    - Simon Hanson

we fall silent
to listen to it . . .
November wind
    - Sanjuktaa Asopa

out for breakfast
my cousin and I
spill laughter on our pancakes
    - Sue Norvell
 
catching up . . .
teaspoons clink
in unison
    - Theresa A. Cancro

untouched placemats
a trail of crumbs
around the tv
    - Tia Haynes

hallelujah!
good hair
on a rainy day
    - Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

long lane
the jogger
short of breath
    - Tim Gardiner

all day rain only a sparrow's call
    - Vibeke Laier

washing yesterday's dishes
thinking about
nothing
    - Zee Zahava

falling leaves
among Japanese signs
my haiku
    - Zuza Truchlewska