Wednesday, March 1, 2017

Haiku by and About Women

Welcome to the March 2017 issue of brass bell. This is the second annual issue dedicated to poetry by women. In celebration of International Women's Day (March 8), and National Women's History Month in the U. S., we write in honor of women and girls everywhere.

You will notice the way some themes and references appear in more than one haiku, like threads connecting women to one another.

Poems have been received from Australia, Brazil, Canada, Croatia, Denmark, Ecuador, England, Ghana, India, Italy, Poland, Singapore, Sri Lanka, Sweden, the U. K. and the United States

catching up
with a girlfriend
summer clouds
    - Agnes Eva Savich

spring cleaning —
the doll grandma gave me
still says "Mama"
    - Angelee Deodhar

Mother's Day
she calls me by her
sister's name
    - Angelee Deodhar

how sad it is
she is almost gone
and we are still unfinished
    - Ann Wexler

late season snow all my yesterdays
    - Anna Cates

feeling awkward
in my too-short skirt
summer's end
    - Anna Maris

old diary
the rose
still red
    - Aparna Pathak

guarding women's right to choose
in honor of my daughter
in your memory, mom
    - Barbara Mink

her collection of mismatched
    - Barbara Tate

counting the stars
which one is mine
    - Barbara Tate

spring meadow
my daughter's hair
curls at the waist
    - Caroline Skanne

wood walk
when no one listens
she sings
    - Caroline Skanne

free education
mother and I learn
the alphabet
    - Celestine Nudanu

in our house
the bits of family
that come unglued
    - Christina Martin

sunshine —
just as her funeral bell
strikes two
    - Christina Martin

distant stars
days I need to be
    - Christina Sng

crinkling leaves
the deepening lines
in my skin
    - Christina Sng

cherry pink sunset
my dog and I
    - Christine L. Villa

talking with mom
about my first period
white pleated skirt
    - Claire Vogel Camargo

first bra strap snap
by our male gymnastics coach
sixth grade
    - Claire Vogel Camargo

long winter
the sudden white
in my hair
    - Debbi Antebi

fading memories
my reflection sways
in the ripples
    - Debbi Antebi

planting a Three Sisters garden every year we remember you
    - Debbie Strange

the hum of bees . . .
I know every word
by heart
    - Debbie Strange

runaway truck lane
all those things
I can't control   
    - Deborah P Kolodji

one tiny word
on a warm biscuit
    - Fran Helmstadter

morning frost
the farmer murmurs
to her goats
    - Hannah Mahoney

Friday acupuncture
she needles a spot
called Palace of Weariness
    - Hannah Mahoney

no room at the inn for a pregnant refugee
    - Helen Buckingham

quantum shift
venus positions herself
over jupiter
    - Jan Benson

home late —
the kiss you wanted,
the one you got
    - Jan Benson

waxing moon
the quarters
in her vacuum bag
    - Jennifer Hambrick

mountain fog
weaves a corn shuck chair
    - Jennifer Hambrick

center of the labyrinth —
my spirit guide
whispers her name
    - Jill Lange

your words —
the exaggerated lies
of moonlight
    - Joann Grisetti

on the train all my life the journey
    - Joanna M. Weston

in my backpack
sand and shells
    - Joanna M. Weston

green ferns emerging
from decaying forest floor —
potential in me
    - Julie Schnepel

last days
I sing her
the lullabies
    - Kath Abela Wilson

the open journal
remembering being sixteen
same handwriting
    - Katya Sabaroff Taylor

over coffee
she cleans her glasses
on the baby blanket
    - kjmunro

girl in a blue shawl
my friend
before I even knew your name
    - Laura Gates-Lupton

my daughter . . .
year by year
our roles reverse
    - Madhuri Pillai

the steely grain
in her voice
the hurt she hides
    - Madhuri Pillai

factory bell
taking a piece of the moon
home with her
    - Malintha Perera

falling leaf —
grandma's pendulum clock
has stopped
    - Maria Laura Valente

crescent moon —
my mother's smile shines
on my sister's face
    - Maria Laura Valente

white chrysanthemum
who will remember me
when I'm gone
    - Marta Chocilowska

melting ice
her first letter after
fifty years
    - Martha Magenta

the wind restyles
my hair
    - Martha Magenta

i was a bluebird
in another life
following the river's path
    - Marty Blue Waters

scent of mock orange —
all the years spent
doubting myself
    - Mary Kendall

when i can't decide
between monkey bars and swings
tree branches beckon
    - Mimi Foyle

in my best dreams i
play the piano and weave
a bridge of serpents
    - Mimi Foyle

mountain peak
gazing into the distance
i postpone my descent
    - Nina Kovacic (translation by Durda Vukelic Rozic)

her name tag says
hello, my name is
    - Pat Davis

after yesterday
trying to think well
of an old friend
    - Phyllis Lee

carrying on
as if I were
not broken
    - Phyllis Lee

trash day —
discarding the last
of those dratted heels
    - Pris Campbell

women's day —
the younger ones carry
the torch now
    - Pris Campbell

hometown park
the old seesaw wobbles
with the weight of my worry
    - Rachel Sutcliffe

another year
still this scar
reminds me
    - Rachel Sutcliffe

suburban road
the sound of my high heels
silences the crickets
    - Rosa Clement

laundry day
the flowers of my dress
with jasmine scent
    - Rosa Clement

over her apple
the toddler peers
at the munching squirrel
    - Ruth Yarrow

from a flowered sofa
after an eighty hour week
her dark eyes
    - Ruth Yarrow

so hard to stay still
these first warm days of spring
my sap is rising
    - Sue Crowley

quarrel over —
tying knots
in a rag rug
    - Theresa A. Cancro

world hijab day
blue head scarf
in the elegant wind
    - Tricia Knoll

jagged craters
on the moon
my aging face
    - Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

night kisses
sharing a secret
with mother
    - Vibeke Laier

early morning rain
the turtle remains in its shell
so do i
    - Zee Zahava

an unbusy moment eavesdropping on my own thoughts
    - Zee Zahava

wave after wave
your shadow
appears and disappears
    - Zuzanna Truchlewska

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

haiku written on January 18, 2017

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

This month's collection features poems that were written on a single date: Wednesday, January 18, 2017.

Contributors are from: Argentina, Australia, Brazil, Canada, Croatia, Denmark, Ecuador, England, Ghana, India, Ireland, Japan, Nigeria, Poland, Singapore, Sri Lanka, Sweden, Switzerland, Turkey, the U.K., and the United States

setting up for the day
the roadside beggar
lines his calabash with coins
    - Adjei Agyei-Baah

winter blues
the unlit street lamp
waits for night
    - Agnes Eva Savich

late night haiku . . .
waking up the smartphone
and myself
    - Ajaya Mahala

rain drop
dripped then
drops on
    - Alan Bern

those who stop —
ducks taking colour
from the river
    - Alan Summers

orange dawn wakes me
ebb tide
mine and the river's
    - Amauri Solon Ribeiro

the warmth of his voice
this cold cold house
    - Angelee Deodhar

late night drive
between the good songs
silent starlight
    - Anna Cates

the impossibility
of lilacs
    - Anna Maris

another chance
to know the ordinary
winter meadow
    - Anne Elise Burgevin

kid's garden —
the little snowman
eats the carrot
    - Aparna Pathak

six o'clock news
my husband yells at
the tv
    - Barbara Tate

winter night . . .
the hiss of the fire
the sigh of the cat
    - Bill Waters

winter garden
puddles cuddling up
to flagstones
    - Brad Bennett

the more I read
the more confused I become
can't shut my eyes
    - C. Robin Janning

winter sun
i share my oatcakes
with a robin
    - Caroline Skanne

the calligraphy
of bare maple branches
tangled thoughts of home   
    - Chen-ou Liu

watching over us
my son's stuffed animals
assigned as sentinels
    - Christina Sng

spreading towels
on the rug and sofa
muddy paws
    - Claire Vogel Camargo

street corner
an aspen shaking
in the rain
    - Dan Schwerin

middle of the night
colouring a nightmare
the yelp of foxes
    - David J. Kelly

paper cut
the sting of the words
in her letter
    - Debbi Antebi

CT scan
will i emerge
a butterfly
    - Debbie Strange

rain gutters full . . .
the hummingbird feeder
    - Deborah P Kolodji

heavy cloud cover
the classical station
plays vivaldi
    - Dottie Piet

haiku dry spell . . .
my old water bottle
empties itself
    - Elizabeth Alford

morning echo
a rooster calculates
the reach of its crow
    - Emmanuel Jessie Kalusian

my cork board
three-deep in grandchildren's art
we plan the day
    - Ferris Gilli

reading the paper
checking the obituaries
not me not yet
    - Frank Robinson

the soft voice in the other room, man to cat
    - Glenn Ingersoll

another broken old vase
seeking out
my glasses
    - Goran Gatalica

january heat
opening windows
to a post-truth spring
    - Helen Buckingham

i pretend to be sick . . .
mailbox in the snow
    - Hideo Suzuki

sweeping winter
from the corners
early crocus
    - Jan Benson

sharing cake all the time in the world before the mammogram
    - Jane Williams

business trip
in the light of the half-moon
my husband's slippers
    - Jennifer Hambrick

ah, poetry journal
package FedEx left in rain —
    - Jill Lange

his wheelchair
at the window . . .
sun worship
    - Jo Balistreri

my green thumb too itchy
made me spill dirt
all over the floor
    - Joan McNerney

waves and the tide over and over again
    - Joanna M. Weston

subway rush hour
train carriages packed
with armpits
    - John Hawkhead

beach shoreline
waves washing
my fallen shadow
    - Justice Joseph Prah

cold snap
before sun
    - Kath Abela Wilson

calendar tells me
that I'm really getting old
but not on this day
    - Katya Sabaroff Taylor

warming up by the fire
we plan our visit
to Iceland
    - kjmunro

drifting clouds —
any anchor for my
wavering mind
    - Kumarendra Mallick

my footsteps
landing in your footprint
single snowflake
    - Laughing waters

light from a dim sky
the sun fit through the branches
as if it lived there
    - Laurinda Lind

after his death
his partner weeps alone —
alone at 97
    - Louise Vignaux

after work
detour to the chemist
her offer of coffee and a chinwag
    - Madhuri Pillai

matching scarfs
the child
and her bald barbie
    - Malintha Perera

a healing circle
we shed old stories
    - Mara Alper

food enough and teeth
back home
I forgive my dentist
    - Margaret Jones

feeling guilty
pruning the houseplants
    - Marianne Paul

frosted window —
placing the poinsettia
near the fireplace
    - Marta Chocilowska

daffodil leaves
a sharp bend
in the road
     - Martha Magenta

tripping over the same rug —
hammer and nails
pounding it to the floor
    - Marty Blue Waters

mangosteen rubies
scatter on the kitchen floor
like winter rainbows
    - Mimi Foyle

no fear . . .
blue jays nab peanuts
despite the cat
    - Nancy Brady

elephant with wings
imaginations soar high
while feeding baby
    - Neha R. Krishna

snowy day
the sweetness of summer
in my mum's marmalade
    - Nina Kovacic
      translated by Durda Vukelic Rozic

clever morning
one more verbal blow
from my Shakespearean Insults calendar
    - Olivier Schopfer

met someone new
and liked her much more
than I expected to
    - Phoebe Shalloway

the neighbor's garden Buddha
on our porch swing
    - Phyllis Lee

each time
I look at the clock —
two a.m.
    - Pris Campbell

my cold hands
warming them up
in your pocket
    - Rachel Sutcliffe

before dawn
coming to my senses
fear fades to white
    - Rob Sullivan

the scent of lilies stronger
than coffee
    - Rosa Clement

dark water
between the last chunks of ice
deep reflections
    - Ruth Yarrow

shuffled playlist
my least favorite song
plays first
    - Shloka Shankar

pool rescue
a struggling bee
lifted to a sunflower
    - Simon Hanson

winter fog —
a boat horn blows
from every direction
    - Stephen Page

my vulnerable students
laugh at my jokes —
the last class I will teach
    -Sue Crowley

flock of turkeys
scratching through the snow
to the leaves below
    - Susan Lang

winter doldrums
slipping past the screen door
the cat's cold nose
    - Theresa A. Cancro

the arterial road
clogged up again . . .
high blood pressure
    - Tim Gardiner

the icicle dagger
falls from the eaves
wild freedom
    - Tricia Knoll

winter moon
folding myself
into silence
    - Vibeke Laier

a thought—
the world is a magical place
it opens its arms to me
    - Yvonne Fisher

lunch with my sister's photograph
not as much fun
as a real visit
    - Zee Zahava

lifting up
a flock of rooks
    - Zuzanna Truchlewska

Sunday, January 1, 2017

happiness haiku

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

This month we are sharing what makes us happy … a good way to start a new year!

Contributors are from: Australia, Brazil, Canada, Croatia, Denmark, Ecuador, England, Ghana, India, Ireland, Japan, Philippines, Poland, Singapore, Sweden, Switzerland, Turkey, Wales, the U.K., and the United States

on your rough edge
I made it to the top
    - Adjei Agyei-Baah

crashing tide
little crabs hurry back
to sea
    - Adjei Agyei-Baah

your voice
more than enough
    - Alan Bern

the rock garden where the statue of Buddha sat
    - Alan Catlin

bedtime stories
read to me by my parents
I read to my grandson
    - Angelee Deodhar

spring breeze
my dress makes a pirouette
on the washing line
    - Anna Maris

the hare and i
stop to watch
    - Anna Maris

first date
this early morning and you
also so blushed
    - Anna Mazurkiewicz

temple bell . . .
I recollect the name
of a long lost friend
    - Aparna Pathak

winter sky
catching a wish
on my tongue
    - Barbara Tate

reading in the sunshine . . .
a tangle of lavender
and one devoted bee
    - Bill Waters

asleep with the light on . . .
taking the book
from her hand
    - Bill Waters

after the rain
my shadow steps first
in the puddles
    - Billy Antonio

book-shaped cake
my child tells me she too
is a bookworm
    - Billy Antonio

swaying pines . . .
something inside me
clicks into place
    - Brad Bennett

thirty four years after
dad's gone — a new baby
with his eyes
    - Bre

rush of wind
no ground below
    - Caroline Gates-Lupton

full inbox
taking a break
super moon . . .
    - Caroline Skanne

thawing stream
the forgotten words
of a song . . .
    - Caroline Skanne

her bike
leans against mine . . .
summer stars
    - Chen-ou Liu

rolling in from the sea moon pearls
    - Christina Martin

last chocolate
at the back of the fridge
childlike exuberance
    - Christina Sng

first sight
of my newborn son
the expansion of my heart
    - Christina Sng

a young swashbuckler
challenges his reflection
with a balloon sword
    - David J. Kelly

wearing fairy wings
a little girl flutters
from step to step
    - David J. Kelly

tiny raindrops shine
in my daughter's dark hair —
starry sky
    - David Oates

harvest moon
the love note I find
in an old book
    - Debbi Antebi

eleven years later
our new dance
to the same song
    - Debbi Antebi

ginko walk how extraordinary this ordinary life
    - Debbie Strange

Betsy's deck —
waiting for the eagle
on Penobscot Bay
    - Frances Helmstadter

early january —
for a moment
i'm as young as the new year
    - Frank Robinson

one by one
the fireflies come to dance
among the rafters
    - Glenn Ingersoll

ending the year
on a bright note —
moonshine on ice
    - Helen Buckingham

twin umbrellas
talking to each other
joy of a rainy day
    - Hideo Suzuki

you are my sunshine
new again
with each babe
    - Jan Benson

exchanging rare objects snail mail
    - Jane Williams

dolphin pod so much more to see without my camera
    - Jane Williams

the cartoon clippings
she sends just for fun
spring birds
    - Jennifer Hambrick

morning bird how he calls me beautiful
    - Jennifer Hambrick

making angels
in the snow . . .
grandma and grandpa
    - Jo Balistreri

whoopee another poetry acceptance
    - Joan McNerney

a dozen red balloons
hang from the chandelier
his sixtieth
    - Joanna M. Weston

I go to bed smiling
each night a flower
in my hair
    - Kath Abela Wilson

reaching into a box
of mom's few last possessions
my poems about her
    - Kath Abela Wilson

just this one flower
makes the whole room beautiful
red gladiola
    - Katya Sabaroff Taylor

unpacking my suitcase your lunch this poem
    - kjmunro

at the library
on the lowest shelf
picture books
    - kjmunro

tumbling down the hill box of kids
    - Laughing waters

writing again
playing piano again
healthy again
    - Madeleine Cohen Oakley

dog park
in the morning sunshine
the bellbird's song
    - Madhuri Pillai

sun after storm
flowers on the meadow
straightening up
    - Marta Chocilowska

icy wind
the horse's warm breath
on my neck
    - Martha Magenta

looking for a laugh
i see a mirror and pose
hello hello
    - Marty Blue Waters

my great-grandson
always giggling
i never know why
    - Mary Louise Church

snowbound —
a brand new novel
page one
    - Mary Kendall

first snow —
a cheeky chickadee
breaks the peace
    - Mary Kendall

on the telephone
my grandson's excited shriek
when he hears it's me
    - Mimi Foyle

having a stroll — my daydreams and I
    - Nina Kovacic
      translated by Durda Vukelic Rozic

new passengers
in the subway train
a feather enters too
    - Olivier Schopfer

secret garden
no sound but
the gurgle of the fountain
    - Olivier Schopfer

my grown child declares
the best music is
in the oldies bin
    - Pat Davis

winter green
the first sprout
from my hyacinth bulb
    - Pat Davis

our initials
carved in a heart . . .
still smiling
    - Pat Geyer

slow mornings — you laugh
and brush my tangling hair
right into my eyes
    - Phoebe Shalloway

car window condensation
draw one smiley face
then a second so it's not lonely
    - Phoebe Shalloway

emptied closet . . .
mother's old red robe again
in my arms
    - Pris Campbell

checking the clock —
my friend's face appears
on skype
    - Pris Campbell

first warm day
folding the breeze
into the sheets
    - Rachel Sutcliffe

I play a game
with my inner child
    - Rachel Sutcliffe

small brown wren
weighs on trembling aspen
    - Ron Scully

spring night
in my dream I am
awake and smiling
    - Rosa Clement

my son shows me
another beauty
    - Simon Hanson

strong wind gust —
cardinal atop a plum
lifts its crown and sings
    - Stephen Page

1 nuthatch    1 titmouse    9 goldfinches
6 perches at the feeder
    - Sue Norvell

fall hike —
the crackle
of peanut brittle
    - Theresa A. Cancro

the robin's spirit
within me
    - Tim Gardiner

happy birthday card
from the hardware store
farmer's nuts, bolts, and hoses
    - Tricia Knoll

midnight kiss
New Year's Eve
and every night
    - Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

patches of daffodils
around the city —
    - Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

winter dawn
butterflies gliding
in a dream
    - Vibeke Laier

dancing with diana
gladys     stevie     smokey
motown sunrise
    - Zee Zahava

pen: thank you for still having ink
    - Zee Zahava

Thursday, December 1, 2016

HomePlace: a collection of small poems

Welcome to the December 2016 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal.

This month showcases small poems on the theme HomePlace.

Contributors are from: Australia, Brazil, Canada, Croatia, Denmark, Ecuador, England, Ghana, India, Ireland, Japan, Poland, Singapore, Switzerland, Turkey, Wales, the U.K., and the United States

amakom, ghana
oil waste from biscuit factory
lights our lanterns at night
    - Adjei Agyei-Baah

wide park and dodgeball playground
all i thought i'd need
    - Alan Bern

rio de janeiro
though born near the beach i dream
of horses and prairies
    - Amauri Solon

new brunswick, new jersey
i am 10
the young men go off to korea
    - Annie Wexler

new delhi, india
my hair styles change
from first crush to last
    - Aparna Pathak

barrie, ontario
doing the dishes with my mother
explaining the poetry of simon & garfunkel
    - Barbara Cartwright

akron, ohio
curfew broken
grounded again
    - Barbara Tate

cranesville, west virginia
how my father smiled there
like no other place
    - C. Robin Janning

cayutaville, new york
convertibles zoom by
too many to be a coincidence
    - Caroline Gates-Lupton

sucking the sweetness
out of a white lilac
    - Caroline Skanne

syracuse, new york
a baby bird falls out of its nest
mom revives her with 2 drops of whiskey
    - Chris McNamara

great neck, long island
watching out for the bully
who waits on the corner
    - Christina Martin

amber mansions, singapore
where i first fell in love
with cats
    - Christina Sng

yorktown heights, new york
front lawns manicured and tidy
i plant corn
    - Christine Sanchirico

manila, philippines
crying over a broken necklace
made of santan flowers
    - Christine L. Villa

midland, texas
stroking the soft bellies
of horny toads
    - Claire Vogel Camargo

broken hill, new south wales
a malleefowl crossing
by the "beware of malleefowl" sign
    - David J Kelly

rural georgia
on one grave
little toy trucks
    - David Oates

saskatchewan . . .
we photograph antelope
in the gloaming
    - Debbie Strange

niagara haze
maid of the mist looks
like a toy boat
    - Dottie Piet

hayward fault line
clinging to my mother
since the quake of '89
    - Elizabeth Alford

tension at the dining room table
my father carves the turkey
    - Frances Helmstadter

in providence
angell street crosses benefit
and peace and plenty are parallel
    - Frank Robinson

buffalo, new york
i played the violin
everyone else played football
    - Gabrielle Vehar

sebastopol, california
sticky to the elbows
juice of windfall apples
    - Glenn Ingersoll

virovitica, croatia
my father throws the scythe
into the barn
    - Goran Gatalica

scranton, pennsylvania
hiding sandwiches
behind the radiator
    - Grace Celeste

bosporus, turkey
waiting for a ferry
along with peddlers and gulls
    - Guliz Mutlu

briar hill
looking over my toes in bed
i see canada across the river
    - H. Fraser

the stars
after my mother died
    - Hannah Mahoney

south london department store
gels in distressed school uniforms
take tea
    - Helen Buckingham

lima, ohio
drinking tang each morning
our prefab crackerbox home
    - Jan Benson

columbus, ohio
on the front porch
shooting craps with dad
    - Jennifer Hambrick

duluth, minnesota
grandma rocks me
and sings songs of ireland
    - Jo Balistreri

prospect park, brooklyn
i put pretty grass
on  my sandwich
    - Joan McNerney

north downs, kent
i turn the chicken run
into a rock garden
    - Joanna M. Weston

staten island
after 17 years we move up the hill
to fancy schmancy
    - Katha Abela Wilson

san francisco days
while mom waters her roses
i read nancy drew
    - Katya Sabaroff Taylor

newark, new york
i was almost chosen to be the
rose queen
    - Kim Falstick

vancouver summer
collecting caterpillars
releasing butterflies
    - kjmunro

ypsilanti, michigan
my best friend pammy and i give up chocolate milk
to chat during nap time
    - kris moon

under grandma's quilt
for evening story time
    - Kumarendra Mallick

kiev in winter
yellow chrysanthemums
bloom in the snowy streets
    - Laughing waters

a halifax night
revving our engines
at the stop light
    - Lance Robertson

bareville, pennsylvania
waiting for the mailman to arrive
we call him the candy man
    - Linda Keeler

queens, new york
my beautiful blue parakeet
    - Madeleine Cohen Oakley

jamshedpur, india
screening "woodstock" in the club
i smuggle my friends inside
    - Madhuri Pillai

oswego, new york
giggling girls in red plaid skirts
late for confession, as usual
    - Margaret Dennis

ottawa lake, wisconsin
too cold to swim
i dive in to drown out mom's i told you so
    - Margaret Jones

brockville, ontario
the ghost playing organ music
at midnight
    - Marianne Paul

warsaw cemetery
a bag of sweet chestnuts
in my pocket
    - Marta Chocilowska

black mountains, wales
amid the dense rain
one red cagoule
    - Martha Magenta

greensburg, kansas
astonished to discover
tonight's chicken dinner was today's bloody chore
    - Marty Blue Waters

west newbury, vermont
the tyler farm
the huge white bull
    - Mary Louise Church

bozeman, montana
we stay indoors at night
bears own the streets
    - Michael G. Smith

city of angels
i sniff out the fresh-baked bread
half a block away
    - Mimi Foyle

manlius hitchhiker
my thumb a great friend
as i try to escape myself
    - MJ Richmond

highland park, illinois
morning bugle song
we live near the army base
    - Nancy Osborn

the bronx
hot fudge sundaes at krum's
my reward for good report cards
    - Nina Miller

geneva, switzerland
the christmas tree i wanted
to keep forever
    - Olivier Schopfer

east boston
street corner whistles
for the girl behind me
    - Pat Davis

union, new jersey
wet laundry freezes on the clothes line
baccalà for lunch
    - Pat Geyer

ithaca, new york
david bowie cancels his concert
i go into mourning
    - Paula Culver

chicago breakfast
the orange pellet changes
oleo to butter
    - Phyllis Lee

pageland, south carolina
wiping lipstick off ronald's picture
before mother sees
    - Pris Campbell

west hempstead, long island
smoking in the ravine with friends
accidentally burning down the driving range
    - Rainbow Crow

merrick, long island
it's good — and it's good for you
    - Rob Sullivan

wolfeboro, new hampshire
the patter of my own little feet
down the dock
    - Robin White

manaus, brazil
i insist on planting rosebushes
that will never bloom
    - Rosa Clement

seven tornadoes
me, safe in her womb
    - Ross Haarstad

poughkeepsie, new york
sunday morning bagels, nova, danish
the new york times
    - Sara Robbins

semaphore, south australia
joined by forty seagulls
for fish and chips
    - Simon Hanson

choconut center
my mom in witch costume
scaring trick-or-treaters home
    - Stacey Murphy

the farm in pennsylvania
on my belly inspecting clover
aha – four leaves!
    - Sue Norvell

highland park, new jersey
the 1950s
canned spinach
    - Sue Perlgut

jackson, mississippi
magnolias as big
as your face
    - Susan Annah Currie

denton, texas
mama gazes out at the sun-baked horizon
she misses canada
    - Susan Lesser

silver lake, ohio
the crooked tree in the yard
grandma told us to encourage it
    - Susanna Drbal

silver spring, maryland
for halloween i am a ballerina
four times
    - Theresa A. Cancro

great yarmouth . . .
a case of mistaken identity
in the house of wax
    - Tim Gardiner

near bear swamp
my wife and i young walk graveyards
one now her own
    - Tina Wright

ithaca hotel
and the trolley
that stopped there
    - Tom Clausen

randers, denmark
empty farm
gathering stones at sunset
    - Vibeke Laier

flushing, queens
mostly i stay inside
dreaming of other places
    - Yvonne Fisher

bronx, new york
first dance recital
i am the plumpest carrot on stage
    - Zee Zahava

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Family Haiku

Welcome to the November 2016 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal.

This month's theme is: Family.

Contributors are from: Australia, Brazil, Canada, Croatia, Denmark, Ecuador, England, Ghana, India, Ireland, Nigeria, Philippines, Poland, Singapore, Turkey, the U.K., and the United States

banana moon
my son asks me
the way to it
    - Adjei Agyei-Baah

like father before
sitting outside
    - Alan Bern

praying mantis
resting on the cake —
family raise an argument
    - Amauri Solon

thanksgiving picnic a family of fire ants joins us
    - Angelee Deodhar

lying side by side
soft intake of breath, then out —
i could strangle him*
    - Barbara Mink

warning signs
hidden in plain sight
grandpa's keys
    - Barbara Tate

hot air
dad tells his stories
    - Barbara Tate

Father's Day
my daughter confirms
my Facebook friend request
    - Billy Antonio

sibling rivalry
my brother takes a selfie
with the latest iPhone
    - Billy Antonio

four generations living
the youngest nine days old
the eldest ninety-one
    - Bre

daughter stops
to help a snail
cross the road
    - Caroline Skanne

on her old red bike
with the comfortable seat
    - Caroline Skanne

dreamcatcher . . .
with both hands my baby grasps
the spring sunlight
    - Chen-ou Liu

one year gone
on her side of the bed
winter moonlight
    - Chen-ou Liu

sit down christina
the only thing my grandmother
can say in english
    - Christina Martin

always first
my brother running off the pier
life jacket
    - Christina Martin

dad's frail shoulders
that once carried me
arctic mountain
    - Christina Sng

sunday best
mother's sharp perfume
stings my nostrils
    - Christina Sng

Aqua Velva . . .
watching dad shave
in the mornings
    - Claire Vogel Camargo

she takes his hand
picking eggs
with grandma
    - Dan Schwerin

my tiny nephew
already fluent
in dinosaur
     David J Kelly

grandma's chocolates
locked in her drawer
now expired
    - Debbi Antebi

second servings
I criticize my mom
for criticizing me
    - Debbi Antebi

we hover around our mother hummingbirds
    - Debbie Strange

tangled fish line
my sons tug
their grandfather
    - Deborah P Kolodji

Canada geese
my mother doesn't renew
her driver's license
    - Deborah P Kolodji

ivory smile
with one gold tooth
nine grandchildren
    - Dottie Piet

bitter cold
my late brother's scent
in his own bedroom
    - Emmanuel Jessie Kalusian

both of them with white hair
mother and son —
which is old, which is young?
    - Frank Robinson

leaving school
hiding from chaos theory
our younger son
    - Goran Gatalica

throwing down the lettuce
Big Sister calls me
slug girl!
    - Helen Buckingham

the cousins i never hear from black ice
    - Jennifer Hambrick

golden leaves
the pocket watch
of the grandfather I never met
    - Jennifer Hambrick

trembling lilacs
this Mother's Day —
the weight of bees
    - Jo Balistreri

softly ends
dad's slowing breath
    - Jo Balistreri

on the window
mother's tears
    - Joanna M. Weston

my son plays
the violin —
screech owls
    - Joanna M. Weston

fashion twist
I share hair elastics
with my son

she taught me
to draw birds
my little daughter
    - Kath Abela Wilson

once a day
he makes me laugh hard
our wedding vows
    - Kath Abela Wilson

early morning sun
reveals in motel mirror
my grandmother's face
    - Katya Sabaroff Taylor

I call mom
my brother gets the credit
    - Lance Robertson

hairy caterpillar
crawling in milkweed dew
father's mustache
    - Laughing waters

her mother's pearls
around my daughter's neck
lie warm
    - Madhuri Pillai

the jungle book —
my grandson removes his clothes
in the cinema
    - Marta Chocilowska

thin ice —
her comment about her
    - Martha Magenta

waning gibbous
grandmother smaller than
she used to be
    - Martha Magenta

almost 10
thinking about death
daddy buried in his cowboy boots
    - Marty Blue Waters

my older sister and I
dance a hobbled two-step —
the bar crowd cheers
    - Marty Blue Waters

reading aloud
the scent of her head
so close to me
    - Mary Hohlman

moon flowers —
my son shows me
how they unfurl
    - Mary Kendall

losing my mother
is somehow more difficult
than finding her was
    - Mimi Foyle

picture postcards
my father's greetings
on the fridge
    - Nina Kovacic (translated by Durda Vukelic Rozic)

grandma's birthday
she asks why
people are singing
    - Pat Davis

only child . . .
i dream of the sister
that might have been
    Pat Geyer

august birthday . . .
my father a leo
always lionhearted
    - Pat Geyer

cloud watching
I find
my father's face
    - Phyllis Lee

first snow
the roses still bloom . . .
grandma's wallpaper
    - Phyllis Lee

nightingale call . . .
mother rises at midnight
to sit with him
    - Pris Campbell

my aunt's birthday —
dinner runs headless
out back
    - Pris Campbell

drifting smoke
the pipe cleaner men
my uncle once made
    - Rachel Sutcliffe

visiting grandma
the relentless chatter
of the budgie
    - Rachel Sutcliffe

polaroid of woman in a two-piece before she was my mother
    - Ron Scully

old sewing machine
Barbie gains a sexy dress
from grandma
    - Rosa Clement

in my hand
under the hospice blanket
his cool fingers
    - Ruth Yarrow

you loved being slim
Mom, the box of your ashes
so heavy
    - Ruth Yarrow

talking of Saturn
my daughter shows us
the hula hoop
    - Simon Hanson

new generation
my son asks me
to put the fish back
    - Simon Hanson

family reunion
i tried in my way
to be me
    - Sondra J. Byrnes

tea time
with the aunties —
mahjong clatter
    - Theresa A. Cancro

longed for child
I never did say
thank you
    - Tim Gardiner

fallen leaves . . .
a fresh quilt
for mother
    - Tom Clausen

when my wife asks
what I did today . . .
look at autumn trees
    - Tom Clausen

mother's birthday
a friday the thirteenth
104 years ago
    - Tricia Knoll

family talk
phone line and a white lie
connect us
    - Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

water painting
just enough colour to
remember mother's flower
    - Vibeke Laier

wild roses
the memories i share
with my sister
    - Vibeke Laier

the Beatles —
I screamed once
my father slapped my face
    - Yvonne Fisher

in daddy's fedora
and her own pink tutu —
sister's sixth birthday
    - Zee Zahava

pinning a dandelion to her lapel
she calls this gardening —
my dear mother
    - Zee Zahava


*  Barbara Mink — lying side by side — "Exposure to a trigger sound elicits an immediate negative emotional response in people who have the condition called Misophonia."

Saturday, October 1, 2016

haiku written on September 22, 2016

Welcome to the October 2016 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal.

This month's collection features poems that were written on a single date: September 22, 2016.

Contributors are from: Argentina, Australia, Brazil, Canada, Croatia, Denmark, England, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Poland, Singapore, Turkey, the U.K., and the United States

before dawn
lights switched on
opening doors to let light out
    - Alan Bern

morning hesitates — deep fog lingers
    - Alan Catlin

new season
aubergine pimpernels climb
the bedroom wall
    - Alan Summers

not a single leaf left
on the guava tree —
hard work sweeping the yard
    - Amauri Solon

the sun halfway
to my winter chair
    - Barbara Kaufmann

first day of autumn
Christmas garlands
    - Barbara Tate

season of change . . .
leaf by golden leaf
the sweet gum
    - Bill Waters

grandma hangs quilts
on the line —
I bring fall leaves
    - Brenda Roberts

lost in the clouds
what happened
    - C. Robin Janning

6 months missing
i start feeding a cat
that looks like mine
    - Caroline Skanne

excuse for my new shawl open window
    - Christina Martin

this delicate dance
of avoiding each other
scenic route
    - Christina Sng

rotten posts
the barbed wire leans
on a milkweed
    - Dan Schwerin

when did clothes
go out of fashion?
naked mannequins
    - David J. Kelly

dancing alone
I embrace
my flaws
    - Debbi Antebi

the bleached husk
of a small crayfish . . .
summer wanes
    - Debbie Strange

moonlight walk
a ghost wind rearranges
the fallen leaves
    - Dottie Piet

after fifty years —
sex is not sex anymore
it's life itself
    - Frank Robinson

back from vacation
a voicemail message
what's my password
    - Glenn Ingersoll

afternoon migraine —
because of left-handedness
chaos in the guest room
    - Goran Gatalica

snooze alarm
the cat and I
close our eyes again
    - Hannah Mahoney

autumn equinox
the eye of the storm
blazes down
    - Helen Buckingham

scudding clouds
under a bridge the fitful
flap of bats
    - Jan Benson

grocery run —
a stand of mums
with a hundred tiny harvest moons
    - Jennifer Hambrick

the cat interrupts my nap— a fat grasshopper
    - Jim Roser

an apple blossom breeze . . .
longing for something
i cannot name
    - Jo Balistreri

first day of autumn
put sunscreen lotion away
take out blankets
    - Joan McNerney

traffic jam
at the 4-way stop
7 a.m.
    - Joanna M. Weston

leftovers again half a day moon
    - Julie Warther

mournful lights of night —
aurora borealis —
green veils, white shrouds
    - Karla Linn Merrifield

two canna lilies
you and I bloom today
in the garden pond
    - Kath Abela Wilson

hummingbird poses
on spiky autumn flowers —
but my pen is too slow
    - Katya Taylor

fall hike
ziploc bag in a pocket
for cranberries
    - kjmunro

one smaller maple
down the street
always turns first
    - Madeleine Cohen Oakley

plane window
so close yet so far
day moon
    - Madhuri Pillai

urban walk
the tractor trailer's shadow
runs me over
    - Marianne Paul

at your graveside
oblivious to the rain
    - Marion Clarke

autumn equinox —
my plane flies to the southern
    - Marta Chocilowska

half moon
the things I meant
to say
    - Martha Magenta

long drive into fall
Kiri Te Kanawa
sings colors to the trees
    - Marty Blue Waters

shortening days
same amount
of writing time
    - Michael G. Smith

yellow chamisa, purple asters — every year your yahrzeit
    - Miriam Sagan

on an old chair
a toy and a bone
    - Nada Jacmenica

night sky
Ursa Major
with extra red star
    - Nancy Brady

garden parrot
calls us into
the tropical greenhouse
    - Pat Davis

no passersby
my mind wanders . . .
this acorned street
    - Pat Geyer

crickets singing —
already the hydrangea heads
are bent with dew
    - Phoebe Lakin

dark attic
no place for a doll
that used to need me
    - Phyllis Lee

downhill racer
my good eye no longer
my good eye
    - Pris Campbell

hard rain
the difference between knowing
and not
    - Rachel Sutcliffe

windless afternoon
in my wind chimes
a baby gecko
    - Rosa Clement

the floral carpet blooms
in the sunroom
    - Simon Hanson

city park
brown circles
where trees were
    - Skaidrite Stelzer

wild asters push
through bleached branches —
september light
    - Sondra J. Byrnes

alone on the lake
hearing whispered confessions
from the red lighthouse
    - Stacey Murphy

unable to write
i look up from my page—
a robin watching me
    - Stephen Page

september heat —
woolen sweaters
hibernate under my bed
    - Sue Norvell

suspended in time
softly fallen leaf
in the spider's web
    - Susan Lang

pillow talk —
daybreak in the curl
of a rose petal   
    - Theresa A. Cancro

until I see you again palace swans
    - Tim Gardiner

all this pretty day
i think of the forest walk
i will take then don't
    - Tina Wright

coming to morning light
beetle hieroglyphics
on a log
    - Tom Clausen

the bower birds'
choice of blue
buttons and sky
    - Tricia Knoll

parallel motion —
the train car
and a blue heron
    - Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

keeping stars alive
on rice paper
autumn calligraphy
    - Vibeke Laier

wrapping the house
in a polka dot scarf —
i wake up laughing
    - Zee Zahava

Thursday, September 1, 2016

kitchen haiku

Welcome to the September 2016 issue of brass bell: a haiku journal.

This month's theme is Kitchen Haiku.

Contributors are from: Australia, Brazil, Canada, Croatia, Denmark, England, Ghana, India, Ireland, Nigeria, Philippines, Poland, Singapore,
Sri Lanka, Tunisia, Turkey, U.K., Ukraine, and the United States

kitchen cleaning
the sudden eruption
of spiderlings
    - Adjei Agyei-Baah

kiss me again by the saucers
    - Alan Bern

summer sun . . .
a big tomato
in the empty sink
    - Ali Znaidi

woodpecker pecks
on the kitchen windowpane —
no more crumbs on the sill
    - Amauri Solon

baker's yeast —
from the kitchen window
a full risen moon
    - Angelee Deodhar

double salt
I forgot
what he said last
    - Aparna Pathak

morning alarm . . .
clink of mother's bangles
as she chops onions
    - Archana Kapoor Nagpal

my son makes it to
the big table
    - Barbara Tate

sunlight on the counter —
one yellow banana
in a green ceramic bowl
    - Bill Waters

first date the silence of spoon and fork
    - Billy Antonio

wind chimes . . .
tossing bell peppers
into the salad
    - Brad Bennett

searching online for
old-fashioned cannisters —
a rooster crows
    - Brenda Roberts

it was my mother's room
her hands
    - C. Robin Janning

kitchen drawer
the lacquered chopsticks
i can't use
    - Caroline Skanne

my hopes deflated
the cake
flat again
    - Christina Sng

morning's angry face buttering toast
    - David J. Kelly

under the sink
so many neglected
    - David Oates

on my napkin
the crumbs
of a new poem
    - Debbi Antebi

on yellowed recipes
she is here, still
    - Debbie Strange

empty nest
no more cheetos
on the pantry shelf
    - Dottie Piet

cardboard shelter
the homeless man whistles over
a boiling pot
    - Emmanuel Jessie Kalusian

all moved in
nothing in the kitchen
where it used to be
    - Ferris Gilli

a healthy dinner —
eating my salad
reading my poems
    - Frank Robinson

sweeping broken bowl into cracked dustpan
    - Glenn Ingersoll

dirty dishes —
the past two weeks
    - Goran Gatalica

the space inside
the yellow pepper
my inner life
    - Hannah Mahoney

kitchen garden
garlic two ways
    - Helen Buckingham

skillet cornbread
crumbled into buttermilk
first frost
    - Jan Benson

mason jars . . .
mom's peaches this winter
    - Jo Balistreri

my shelf has room for
two serving plates, five bowls
and one square of sun
    - Joan McNerney

together —
he washes
she dries
    - Joanna M. Weston

kitchen skylight
I decide to make
    - Kath Abela Wilson

crossword puzzle time
on Sunday morning table
coffee, sharp pencil
    - Katya Sabaroff Taylor

winter morning —
mist of her breath fills
the tea cup
    - Kumarendra Mallick

kitchen junk drawer archeological dig
    - Lance Robertson

I could never
convince my mother
that dishes dry by themselves
    - Madeleine Cohen Oakley

old wok
the smooth patina
of its swollen belly
    - Madhuri Pillai

mashed potatoes
all those words
I wish I said
    - Malintha Perera

last year's wishbone
still on the windowsill
with Mother's wedding ring
    - Margaret Chula

natural organic local
in my soup
    - Margaret Jones

ticking clocks —
not allowed to speak
at meal time
    - Marianne Paul

gathering dusk . . .
the last sip
of pine-needle tea
    - Mark E. Brager

coffee cream on the kitchen table cat licks its whiskers
    - Marta Chocilowska

red wine punch
family reunion
round one
    - Martha Magenta

disconnected stove
no more cooking
flowers everywhere
    - Marty Blue Waters

snow squall . . .
dancing in the kitchen
to keep warm
    - Mary Kendall

nothing as mysterious as someone else's kitchen
    - Miriam Sagan

mulled wine
sweet smell of cinnamon
leaves through the kitchen chimney
    - Nada Jacmenica 

the diswasher
has its own
mantra meditation
    - Nicholas Klacsanzky

chilly morning
three small suns sizzling
in a frying pan
    - Nina Kovacic (translated by Durda Vukelic Rozic)

then i bought a new teacup now i have a cuppa dust
    - Pat Geyer

cooking brussels sprouts
you won't be home
    - Phyllis Lee

my father's blue robe . . .
just the two of us gobbling
fried green tomatoes
    - Pris Campbell

dinner for one
still cooking
your favourite meals
    - Rachel Sutcliffe

kitchen mirror
she checks her lipstick
on a pan lid
    - Rosa Clement

spring pantry
grasping the last apple
my fingers ooze in
    - Ruth Yarrow

firing up
the old wood stove
best bread ever
    - Simon Hanson

every morning
that perfect white orchid
with coffee
    - Sondra Byrnes

morning coffee —
pigeon ripping petals off
kitchen sill bluebells
    - Stephen Page

the hem of my dress
taking the sweat from my brow
canning fresh snap peas
    - Susan Lang

23rd anniversary —
thawing frozen
    - Theresa A. Cancro

evening mist again I forget the boiling pasta
    - Tim Gardiner

autumn chill —
some crickets seek asylum
in the kitchen
    - Tomislav Maretić

kitchen table dust
the screen door open
to the east wind
    - Tricia Knoll

evening light rain
i open the kitchen door
for the cats
    - Vibeke Laier

sitting in the kitchen
for the world
    - Yvonne Fisher

heating leftovers friday night jazz plays on the radio
    - Zee Zahava