The Bamboo Hut Number 2 2020
RP Verlaine
a butterfly
lands on her knee
in the park
while breezes caress her
like my eyes from afar
the mime says
let pure silence speak
as I look into her eyes
I'm a reborn angel
only air knows my shadow
I watch her sleep
each gentle breath
new ocean waves
pulling me close
to drown quickly
she asks
what am I looking at
when she catches me
staring at her eyes
I say Heavenly sunsets
Roger Watson
the zen master builder
green
with chlorophyll envy
watching
the morning sun
rising
as many
as the grains of rice
in my bowl
a stream
of endless thoughts
my tanshi session
graced
by the spirit
of Rumi
...sohbet
the mousetrap
the spider's web
deceitful
like the eye
of the storm
Gerard Sarnat
Tears flew when high school
hero’s funeral was described
as being live streamed
Joy McCall
All people that on earth do dwell.
John Donne said 'no man is an island'
and he may be right - but I feel ...
I am
a small green island
in a sea
that stretches as far
as my eyes can see
maybe it's all an illusion ...
this misty sense
of solitude - maybe
there are millions
more islands
in the great vast blue
inhabited by those like me who think they are alone
no matter ...
I cling
to the cliffs
the caves
the shores
the rocks, the trees
who is to say this place is not real?
I sit on the meadow grass and pick daisies and make a chain
and then feel sad for the flowers that for a moment made me happy
the view is outward from within ...
across the great expanse
over the limitless edge
and does it matter
if where I am is small
and dark and tide-washed?
I woke in a banshee wind
from a dream of cloves and honey
the doors and windows rattled loud
a spook owl was calling my name
darkling song
the old hedgewitch is crawling
on her belly through the sweetgrass
night frogs are singing in the woods
her skirts catch on thistles
her vision is faltering
she is searching for seedheads
of spent dandelions, blowing
ten-eleven-midnight
the wind carries the black seeds
circling above her weary head
nto the night, into the grass
she falls asleep and dreams
a myriad fluttering wings
tiny pitch-black birds landing
pecking, burrowing, sinking
into her pale skin
dark bodies settle in her flesh
bird voices rise from her bones
she wakes in the dawnlight
a seeded changeling
she sits muttering in the field
breathing sweetgrass, smiling, rocking
stroking her tattoo'd arms
singing mad and raucous
oh my little darkling ones
no more can we take flight
we will grow among the sweetgrass
black as indigo, as night
****
I dreamed a bright canary
in a field of clary sage
he sang so sweet - I wrote then
some lines upon a page
that's all there was to it, yet
it stayed with me all day long
the blue-green herb, the yellow bird
the scent, the field, the song
Andy McCall
I will bring light
to the darkness
and not be afraid
of the shadows
a shadow
is a kindly place
out of the hot sun
and the scary dark
bring me your fears
I will lift them
in my hands to the light -
look, look at the shadows!
John Grey
BLISS
silence
peace
on the banks of the pond
not even the dragonflies intense
FROM THE SICKBED
the bedridden window
is a solitary nightshade,
flowering on an unseen tree trunk,
coming to me days and nights,
letting loose the stop in my throat
with a luminous side-turned flower
A COUPLE IN THEIR 80’s CUDDLE ON A PARK BENCH
Outside of us,
fat moons sit in the sky
like judges.
Our only crime...
to remember our old selves too well
Ivo Drury
within the memory prison
there is no time past
only time unattainable
a conscience
tightly laced with rumble strips
obviated straying
by a quincunx of boulders
a grove of young willows
thrills of red-winged blackbirds
it rained javelins that morning
even the avid earth
must have felt pain
David He Zhuanglang
full moon
the smiling face
of my baby
sunset
a puppy chases
its shadow
amid our bamboo
a few sparrows settle
in darkening dusk
I wait with bated breath
for their sweet voices
an old man
wandering inside
a temple
the bell echoes
through loneliness
the moment
a seagull hovers
no words
come to my mind
for this tanka
Eva Joan
lost
one look in your eyes
the slightest touch
of your fingertips
just one kiss
and I would be lost
lost in you ...
too late
he promised too much
a thousand times
broke my heart
a thousand times
thousand times regretted
too late ... too late ...
empty coffee cup -
the silence heavy as lead
after the last word
Michael H Lester
Keeping it in the Family
I serenade
my lady fair
yet she keeps
her curtains drawn
as if I were not there
perhaps
my song is out of tune
discordant
like the sound of crows
squawking at the moon
yonder
past the lemon grove
in her cottage
cousin Mary pines away
mourning her betrothed
tomorrow
I will rendezvous
with Mary
by the railroad tracks
where the river splits in two
I remember
Mary always liked me
mama said
sometimes it’s okay
to marry family
Bryan Rickert
honeysuckle scent
the deer’s narrow path
through the thicket
morning mist
a little rasp
in the wren song
first frost
smell of the furnace
burning dust
moonrise
the cricket and frog song
calling me home
the never-ending question
of why I’ve strayed so long
long summer days
scoured down
by the prairie winds
the sharp edges
of my youth
Neelam Dadhwal
festival flags
bearing down their colors
I tell the kids
the parrot's talk is
not magic
Terri L French
St. Joseph’s Day
swallows gather
at the mission
Capistrano
a white butterfly
with something to prove
chickweed blossoms
her sweater tied
to the twirling bars
shiny pebbles
on my windowsill
the kindness of crows
dappled light
my fickle shadow
on the wooded trail
Ben Gaa
pausing
in the labyrinth walk
a toad
winter wind
the branch that breaks
our marriage
bistro fiddle
the slow curl of cream
in the coffee
reaching across
the width of the river
loon call
homemade scones
sunlight fills
the jelly jar
Isabel Caves
paper flowers
in a picture book meadow
flu season
another friend
for her collection
Jupiter’s rings
moonstones
my loneliness
in the stray’s eyes
crystal beads
the dusk lights up
with cricket song
they always flock
to the next tree -
ripe tamarillos
Roberta Beach Jacobson
forest underbrush
- secluded habitat
for lizards and toads
javelin pierces
the sun
silver medal
named
for the trees cut down -
Maple Street
shattered edges
of the midnight sky
black-and-white wars
not available
in technicolor
Antoni Ooto
While Night Slept
Morning comes naked…
giving everything to light. And
the sun wakes blind,
crosses a line rope
holding the horizon down. And
no light in me only questions.
And Remember
What a mistake
to be unaware
of fragile time we’ve shared.
I’m looking for a word,
and yesterday must mean everything.
Michael T Smith
Peeking at new love
A green clock is jealous
And tells a bold-face lie
A flower blossoms
Like a Basquiat work, only
The edges are soft
Writing a haiku:
Images of my teacher
Erasing the board
Lavana Kray
the storm
struck a bird's nest in the door -
string by string
our life song lost
its harmony
dandelion fluff
in and out of the murkiness
of my room -
if I were a gust of wind
I would close the door behind you
by fireplace
trying to fit a new hand
to the old doll -
I kept in my rebuilt life
a secret place for you
Judy DeCroce
Disappointment
That’s what I like about it;
there’s not a limit in sight!
Brush against pain, confusion
then snag fingers in joy, or happiness…
Disappointment—there are worse things
but not many.
This Rift
weaving the vastness
into silence
and afterward that cold field
returns
a destination planned
nothing in fear— something in doubt
Hema Ravi
MICRO POEM
the distance
in our proximity
our breaths
CINQUAIN
Proximity
Temporal, Intimate
Whirling,Twirling,Dancing
In tight embrace
Courtship
QUATRAIN
Let us dance, be merry, let there be cheer
In the proximity let our hearts blend
Past dreary sands, choppy seas as we wend
Let the winds be favourable, not veer.
John J Hann
winter dream
my deceased dad and I talk
about his deceased dad
a lone goose…
the hearse followed
by strangers
green grass
the proud steps of
mother goose
squirrel acrobatics
in the backyard
my cat yawns
spring breeze
an ice cream truck returns
with the same old song
Rashmi VeSa
trawling
the blackhole
of the past
my life circles
on a sheet of ice
sizzling
in a hot pan
mom’s tempering
we spice our day
ladling gossip
gossamer drizzle
in the cusp of my grasp
a new world …
I sever all ifs and buts
tethering my life
in the hills
lost for a lifetime
wildflowers
the joy of blooming
for non-appraising eyes
Chen-ou Liu
a stretch of flophouses
after the rain potholes fill
with summer stars
a woman in black
on the pier's edge ...
wind surge
first light ...
the soft curves
of her silhouette
in winter light
another anniversary
slips away ...
the glass wall of silence
between my wife and me
the laugh track
on a late-night game show
echoes in the dark ...
my hand feeling colder
on the empty side of the bed
Tim Gardiner & Wendy Constance
you see snakes
I see complication-
Medusa’s mass
of knotted roots
as it should be
tangled roots
fates entwined-
we pause to wonder
dreams hidden
beneath cold feet
pathway oak
leaves walkers
a choice of left or right-
isolation much harder
to bypass
crimson mushrooms
strewn across our path-
winter blues
leave me wistful
for summer attire
we admire
oak cavities-
decaying timber
bramble doesn’t engulf
the woodpecker drills
rampant brambles
ensnare the dead oak-
we retrace our steps
find a way through
woodland anarchy
Dave Read
whitened stubble
ages my face --
I shave off
a couple
of years
along with
his backpack
after the loss
I carry my son’s
disappointment
he loses his coat
on the way home
from school --
a leaf slips away
in the breeze
opening the window
to a cold breeze
I let in
a contagion
of goosebumps
the first sign of spring:
the sun
starts to thaw
the sound
of my neighbour’s dog
Christina Chin
pop up canopy
nutshells multiply
on the picnic table
kite competition
the ocean takes
our puffer fish
high noon
arctic sun briefly latches
the sea ice
drumming
a woodpecker
breaks fast
moonlit grove
the sound of footfalls
on fragrant pine
Joy McCall & Michael H Lester
the hedgewitch and the tinker
are hiding around the bend
watching the cripplemouse nibbling
on words, words without end
the tinker fiddles with widgets
while the hedgewitch sips her porridge
the cripplemouse cracks a chestnut
somewhere down in Norwich
Tom Bierovic
written
on a bookmark
the first draft
of her
last
poem
high above
the prayer flags
an eagle
seeking
prey
sandhill crane
its knees
bend backwards
its call sounds
inside out
clouds
flutter across
the crescent moon
dance of the
seven veils
the slow drip
from a maple tap
a glacier
collapsing
far away
Taofeek Ayeyemi
night fishing . . .
the continuous thud
of grapes
stove --
the cat shares
my warmth
on the leaves
the beads of dew . . .
spring dawn
hotter days . . .
windows and doors
widely open
roasting sun –
a duckling scuffles
my shadow
Bill Pauly and Julie Warther
peeling a pear --
careful not to let it
slip away
held spellbound
by the gentleness of his words
echoes of carols
how long has it been
since the thaw?
at last, a reply of trickled notes
from the creek
her old cutting board,
scored with marks
of her kindness
counting tree rings
we start again
cleaning the fish --
small heart,
but O! the eggs . . .
behind a thin scrim
the secret of a night sky
all the leaves are torn --
how can we not blame the wind
for what we've done?
memories blown from glass
still warm to the touch
Tiffany Shaw-Diaz
silent film
clouds move across
my thoughts
an Oscar
worthy performance
dying rose
brighter days
the chickadee’s call
awakens me
spring
your gentle
encouragement
all my luggage
packed
road to freedom
Joy McCall & Liam Wilkinson
hot black coffee and candlelight
I stay awake all night to write
the words that I will long to say
when the virus finds me
refusing to read the day's news
pretending that all will be well
I pull the quilts over my head
and sleep, and dream of stars
John J Dunphy
pharmacy
woman sorts through get-well cards
with gloved hands
grocery store window
employee removes its
'we have toilet paper' sign
liquor store
from the adjoining alley
sound of coughing
my neighbor's yard
his Buddha statue
masked
quarantine ended --
still social distancing from
my Trump-loving neighbors
Pat Geyer
white breasted
nuthatch picks a ballad
of nature..
chords of a
basswood tree
red breasted nuthatch
picks a blues ballad...
on a basswood tree
silken spider strings
quiver in cool riffs
four kids play
gourd rattles...
with a turn
their voices sing
a balladée
worn down rocks
shine yellow
in the brook ...
babbling
songs of spring
cardinal songs
raise the day...
as if
high flying
i am home free
Liam Wilkinson
schools are empty, hospitals full
supermarkets stripped to their bones
and on the radio, a voice
says that spring has arrived
not enough coffins for the dead
in some houses the corpses lie
cold and still and sealed in spaces
that once were living rooms
a glowing ring around the moon
my windowpane is wet with tears
I, from my isolation, mourn
the world’s pandemic dead
so often I have tried to write
to tell you how I really feel
and now that death stands in the lane
my letters all are lost
in my isolation I read
many translations of Han Shan
for I know, when rain is falling,
Cold Mountain is shining
John McManus
my son's friend asks
for the wi-fi password . . .
tree fort
I sit on the bench
where we last kissed . . .
the scent of wild rosemary
old pine
the dog and I
take a leak
sun-kissed ruins
the sound of grandpa’s laughter
inside my head
out in the garden
for the first time in weeks
father finds his smile
Keith Nunes
headlights flicker
in the midnight rain
like blown
birthday
cake candles
a thousand silver eyes
carry me out
over the sea
when they release me
I can fly
ordered rows
of sweetened life
a fruitful season
seaweed sushi
by the summer sea
her salty kiss
million-dollar view
snail climbs
the walled street
Cliff Rames
summer sunrise
a sail inhales the sea’s
first breath
sheltered in place the parakeet's mocking sound
six feet
our relationships grows
more distant
self isolation
a more casual approach
to laziness
first star
her yearbook photo
still that smile
Nadejda Kostadinova
spring
the fist flower blossoms
looking up at the sun
church bell
waking me up
I remember
I have been here already
in my sleep
spring sun
It’s all in their
smiles
drifting
into meditation
haiku podcast
bright night
the sky is shining
differently
Anna Goluba
Looking for
Any kind of light...
Moth
Unsent love letter...
The paper boat is ready
For sea adventure
A full list
Of contacts
And nobody to call...
Another sudoku
Filled up
Waiting for
Her lunar lover
The night transforms
Panes into the mirrors
And enhances her beauty
At the end
Of my road
Home
Of someone else...
Moonlight
Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo
For my acrobat heart
For my acrobat heart
nothing remains but to dance
between the plots of memory
Thin cobweb threads
laid by a time
no longer interchangeable
mark the pace
The ticket for the trip
already sold
at the moment of the first cry.
Cumha* A memory
On a hill in Ireland
a long time ago
between sea and sky
the sound of a harp
brought distant echoes
The soft whispers
of all those
who were missing
at the blue call
of that Celtic sky
Foals grazed calmy
on the moss of the moor
and the notes were lost
in the brackish wind
of the sea beyond
* homesickness in Gaelic
on the horizon
the clouds gather
in a sunset
the last light laps the sky
between you and me
heavy the moon
like a closed flower
waiting waiting
let the sky dissolve
in a blue whisper
slumbering
petals in the dream
fall lightly
stay a little longer
to remind me of you
5
a butterfly
lands on her knee
in the park
while breezes caress her
like my eyes from afar
the mime says
let pure silence speak
as I look into her eyes
I'm a reborn angel
only air knows my shadow
I watch her sleep
each gentle breath
new ocean waves
pulling me close
to drown quickly
she asks
what am I looking at
when she catches me
staring at her eyes
I say Heavenly sunsets
Roger Watson
the zen master builder
green
with chlorophyll envy
watching
the morning sun
rising
as many
as the grains of rice
in my bowl
a stream
of endless thoughts
my tanshi session
graced
by the spirit
of Rumi
...sohbet
the mousetrap
the spider's web
deceitful
like the eye
of the storm
Gerard Sarnat
Tears flew when high school
hero’s funeral was described
as being live streamed
Joy McCall
All people that on earth do dwell.
John Donne said 'no man is an island'
and he may be right - but I feel ...
I am
a small green island
in a sea
that stretches as far
as my eyes can see
maybe it's all an illusion ...
this misty sense
of solitude - maybe
there are millions
more islands
in the great vast blue
inhabited by those like me who think they are alone
no matter ...
I cling
to the cliffs
the caves
the shores
the rocks, the trees
who is to say this place is not real?
I sit on the meadow grass and pick daisies and make a chain
and then feel sad for the flowers that for a moment made me happy
the view is outward from within ...
across the great expanse
over the limitless edge
and does it matter
if where I am is small
and dark and tide-washed?
I woke in a banshee wind
from a dream of cloves and honey
the doors and windows rattled loud
a spook owl was calling my name
darkling song
the old hedgewitch is crawling
on her belly through the sweetgrass
night frogs are singing in the woods
her skirts catch on thistles
her vision is faltering
she is searching for seedheads
of spent dandelions, blowing
ten-eleven-midnight
the wind carries the black seeds
circling above her weary head
nto the night, into the grass
she falls asleep and dreams
a myriad fluttering wings
tiny pitch-black birds landing
pecking, burrowing, sinking
into her pale skin
dark bodies settle in her flesh
bird voices rise from her bones
she wakes in the dawnlight
a seeded changeling
she sits muttering in the field
breathing sweetgrass, smiling, rocking
stroking her tattoo'd arms
singing mad and raucous
oh my little darkling ones
no more can we take flight
we will grow among the sweetgrass
black as indigo, as night
****
I dreamed a bright canary
in a field of clary sage
he sang so sweet - I wrote then
some lines upon a page
that's all there was to it, yet
it stayed with me all day long
the blue-green herb, the yellow bird
the scent, the field, the song
Andy McCall
I will bring light
to the darkness
and not be afraid
of the shadows
a shadow
is a kindly place
out of the hot sun
and the scary dark
bring me your fears
I will lift them
in my hands to the light -
look, look at the shadows!
John Grey
BLISS
silence
peace
on the banks of the pond
not even the dragonflies intense
FROM THE SICKBED
the bedridden window
is a solitary nightshade,
flowering on an unseen tree trunk,
coming to me days and nights,
letting loose the stop in my throat
with a luminous side-turned flower
A COUPLE IN THEIR 80’s CUDDLE ON A PARK BENCH
Outside of us,
fat moons sit in the sky
like judges.
Our only crime...
to remember our old selves too well
Ivo Drury
within the memory prison
there is no time past
only time unattainable
a conscience
tightly laced with rumble strips
obviated straying
by a quincunx of boulders
a grove of young willows
thrills of red-winged blackbirds
it rained javelins that morning
even the avid earth
must have felt pain
David He Zhuanglang
full moon
the smiling face
of my baby
sunset
a puppy chases
its shadow
amid our bamboo
a few sparrows settle
in darkening dusk
I wait with bated breath
for their sweet voices
an old man
wandering inside
a temple
the bell echoes
through loneliness
the moment
a seagull hovers
no words
come to my mind
for this tanka
Eva Joan
lost
one look in your eyes
the slightest touch
of your fingertips
just one kiss
and I would be lost
lost in you ...
too late
he promised too much
a thousand times
broke my heart
a thousand times
thousand times regretted
too late ... too late ...
empty coffee cup -
the silence heavy as lead
after the last word
Michael H Lester
Keeping it in the Family
I serenade
my lady fair
yet she keeps
her curtains drawn
as if I were not there
perhaps
my song is out of tune
discordant
like the sound of crows
squawking at the moon
yonder
past the lemon grove
in her cottage
cousin Mary pines away
mourning her betrothed
tomorrow
I will rendezvous
with Mary
by the railroad tracks
where the river splits in two
I remember
Mary always liked me
mama said
sometimes it’s okay
to marry family
Bryan Rickert
honeysuckle scent
the deer’s narrow path
through the thicket
morning mist
a little rasp
in the wren song
first frost
smell of the furnace
burning dust
moonrise
the cricket and frog song
calling me home
the never-ending question
of why I’ve strayed so long
long summer days
scoured down
by the prairie winds
the sharp edges
of my youth
Neelam Dadhwal
festival flags
bearing down their colors
I tell the kids
the parrot's talk is
not magic
Terri L French
St. Joseph’s Day
swallows gather
at the mission
Capistrano
a white butterfly
with something to prove
chickweed blossoms
her sweater tied
to the twirling bars
shiny pebbles
on my windowsill
the kindness of crows
dappled light
my fickle shadow
on the wooded trail
Ben Gaa
pausing
in the labyrinth walk
a toad
winter wind
the branch that breaks
our marriage
bistro fiddle
the slow curl of cream
in the coffee
reaching across
the width of the river
loon call
homemade scones
sunlight fills
the jelly jar
Isabel Caves
paper flowers
in a picture book meadow
flu season
another friend
for her collection
Jupiter’s rings
moonstones
my loneliness
in the stray’s eyes
crystal beads
the dusk lights up
with cricket song
they always flock
to the next tree -
ripe tamarillos
Roberta Beach Jacobson
forest underbrush
- secluded habitat
for lizards and toads
javelin pierces
the sun
silver medal
named
for the trees cut down -
Maple Street
shattered edges
of the midnight sky
black-and-white wars
not available
in technicolor
Antoni Ooto
While Night Slept
Morning comes naked…
giving everything to light. And
the sun wakes blind,
crosses a line rope
holding the horizon down. And
no light in me only questions.
And Remember
What a mistake
to be unaware
of fragile time we’ve shared.
I’m looking for a word,
and yesterday must mean everything.
Michael T Smith
Peeking at new love
A green clock is jealous
And tells a bold-face lie
A flower blossoms
Like a Basquiat work, only
The edges are soft
Writing a haiku:
Images of my teacher
Erasing the board
Lavana Kray
the storm
struck a bird's nest in the door -
string by string
our life song lost
its harmony
dandelion fluff
in and out of the murkiness
of my room -
if I were a gust of wind
I would close the door behind you
by fireplace
trying to fit a new hand
to the old doll -
I kept in my rebuilt life
a secret place for you
Judy DeCroce
Disappointment
That’s what I like about it;
there’s not a limit in sight!
Brush against pain, confusion
then snag fingers in joy, or happiness…
Disappointment—there are worse things
but not many.
This Rift
weaving the vastness
into silence
and afterward that cold field
returns
a destination planned
nothing in fear— something in doubt
Hema Ravi
MICRO POEM
the distance
in our proximity
our breaths
CINQUAIN
Proximity
Temporal, Intimate
Whirling,Twirling,Dancing
In tight embrace
Courtship
QUATRAIN
Let us dance, be merry, let there be cheer
In the proximity let our hearts blend
Past dreary sands, choppy seas as we wend
Let the winds be favourable, not veer.
John J Hann
winter dream
my deceased dad and I talk
about his deceased dad
a lone goose…
the hearse followed
by strangers
green grass
the proud steps of
mother goose
squirrel acrobatics
in the backyard
my cat yawns
spring breeze
an ice cream truck returns
with the same old song
Rashmi VeSa
trawling
the blackhole
of the past
my life circles
on a sheet of ice
sizzling
in a hot pan
mom’s tempering
we spice our day
ladling gossip
gossamer drizzle
in the cusp of my grasp
a new world …
I sever all ifs and buts
tethering my life
in the hills
lost for a lifetime
wildflowers
the joy of blooming
for non-appraising eyes
Chen-ou Liu
a stretch of flophouses
after the rain potholes fill
with summer stars
a woman in black
on the pier's edge ...
wind surge
first light ...
the soft curves
of her silhouette
in winter light
another anniversary
slips away ...
the glass wall of silence
between my wife and me
the laugh track
on a late-night game show
echoes in the dark ...
my hand feeling colder
on the empty side of the bed
Tim Gardiner & Wendy Constance
you see snakes
I see complication-
Medusa’s mass
of knotted roots
as it should be
tangled roots
fates entwined-
we pause to wonder
dreams hidden
beneath cold feet
pathway oak
leaves walkers
a choice of left or right-
isolation much harder
to bypass
crimson mushrooms
strewn across our path-
winter blues
leave me wistful
for summer attire
we admire
oak cavities-
decaying timber
bramble doesn’t engulf
the woodpecker drills
rampant brambles
ensnare the dead oak-
we retrace our steps
find a way through
woodland anarchy
Dave Read
whitened stubble
ages my face --
I shave off
a couple
of years
along with
his backpack
after the loss
I carry my son’s
disappointment
he loses his coat
on the way home
from school --
a leaf slips away
in the breeze
opening the window
to a cold breeze
I let in
a contagion
of goosebumps
the first sign of spring:
the sun
starts to thaw
the sound
of my neighbour’s dog
Christina Chin
pop up canopy
nutshells multiply
on the picnic table
kite competition
the ocean takes
our puffer fish
high noon
arctic sun briefly latches
the sea ice
drumming
a woodpecker
breaks fast
moonlit grove
the sound of footfalls
on fragrant pine
Joy McCall & Michael H Lester
the hedgewitch and the tinker
are hiding around the bend
watching the cripplemouse nibbling
on words, words without end
the tinker fiddles with widgets
while the hedgewitch sips her porridge
the cripplemouse cracks a chestnut
somewhere down in Norwich
Tom Bierovic
written
on a bookmark
the first draft
of her
last
poem
high above
the prayer flags
an eagle
seeking
prey
sandhill crane
its knees
bend backwards
its call sounds
inside out
clouds
flutter across
the crescent moon
dance of the
seven veils
the slow drip
from a maple tap
a glacier
collapsing
far away
Taofeek Ayeyemi
night fishing . . .
the continuous thud
of grapes
stove --
the cat shares
my warmth
on the leaves
the beads of dew . . .
spring dawn
hotter days . . .
windows and doors
widely open
roasting sun –
a duckling scuffles
my shadow
Bill Pauly and Julie Warther
peeling a pear --
careful not to let it
slip away
held spellbound
by the gentleness of his words
echoes of carols
how long has it been
since the thaw?
at last, a reply of trickled notes
from the creek
her old cutting board,
scored with marks
of her kindness
counting tree rings
we start again
cleaning the fish --
small heart,
but O! the eggs . . .
behind a thin scrim
the secret of a night sky
all the leaves are torn --
how can we not blame the wind
for what we've done?
memories blown from glass
still warm to the touch
Tiffany Shaw-Diaz
silent film
clouds move across
my thoughts
an Oscar
worthy performance
dying rose
brighter days
the chickadee’s call
awakens me
spring
your gentle
encouragement
all my luggage
packed
road to freedom
Joy McCall & Liam Wilkinson
hot black coffee and candlelight
I stay awake all night to write
the words that I will long to say
when the virus finds me
refusing to read the day's news
pretending that all will be well
I pull the quilts over my head
and sleep, and dream of stars
John J Dunphy
pharmacy
woman sorts through get-well cards
with gloved hands
grocery store window
employee removes its
'we have toilet paper' sign
liquor store
from the adjoining alley
sound of coughing
my neighbor's yard
his Buddha statue
masked
quarantine ended --
still social distancing from
my Trump-loving neighbors
Pat Geyer
white breasted
nuthatch picks a ballad
of nature..
chords of a
basswood tree
red breasted nuthatch
picks a blues ballad...
on a basswood tree
silken spider strings
quiver in cool riffs
four kids play
gourd rattles...
with a turn
their voices sing
a balladée
worn down rocks
shine yellow
in the brook ...
babbling
songs of spring
cardinal songs
raise the day...
as if
high flying
i am home free
Liam Wilkinson
schools are empty, hospitals full
supermarkets stripped to their bones
and on the radio, a voice
says that spring has arrived
not enough coffins for the dead
in some houses the corpses lie
cold and still and sealed in spaces
that once were living rooms
a glowing ring around the moon
my windowpane is wet with tears
I, from my isolation, mourn
the world’s pandemic dead
so often I have tried to write
to tell you how I really feel
and now that death stands in the lane
my letters all are lost
in my isolation I read
many translations of Han Shan
for I know, when rain is falling,
Cold Mountain is shining
John McManus
my son's friend asks
for the wi-fi password . . .
tree fort
I sit on the bench
where we last kissed . . .
the scent of wild rosemary
old pine
the dog and I
take a leak
sun-kissed ruins
the sound of grandpa’s laughter
inside my head
out in the garden
for the first time in weeks
father finds his smile
Keith Nunes
headlights flicker
in the midnight rain
like blown
birthday
cake candles
a thousand silver eyes
carry me out
over the sea
when they release me
I can fly
ordered rows
of sweetened life
a fruitful season
seaweed sushi
by the summer sea
her salty kiss
million-dollar view
snail climbs
the walled street
Cliff Rames
summer sunrise
a sail inhales the sea’s
first breath
sheltered in place the parakeet's mocking sound
six feet
our relationships grows
more distant
self isolation
a more casual approach
to laziness
first star
her yearbook photo
still that smile
Nadejda Kostadinova
spring
the fist flower blossoms
looking up at the sun
church bell
waking me up
I remember
I have been here already
in my sleep
spring sun
It’s all in their
smiles
drifting
into meditation
haiku podcast
bright night
the sky is shining
differently
Anna Goluba
Looking for
Any kind of light...
Moth
Unsent love letter...
The paper boat is ready
For sea adventure
A full list
Of contacts
And nobody to call...
Another sudoku
Filled up
Waiting for
Her lunar lover
The night transforms
Panes into the mirrors
And enhances her beauty
At the end
Of my road
Home
Of someone else...
Moonlight
Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo
For my acrobat heart
For my acrobat heart
nothing remains but to dance
between the plots of memory
Thin cobweb threads
laid by a time
no longer interchangeable
mark the pace
The ticket for the trip
already sold
at the moment of the first cry.
Cumha* A memory
On a hill in Ireland
a long time ago
between sea and sky
the sound of a harp
brought distant echoes
The soft whispers
of all those
who were missing
at the blue call
of that Celtic sky
Foals grazed calmy
on the moss of the moor
and the notes were lost
in the brackish wind
of the sea beyond
* homesickness in Gaelic
on the horizon
the clouds gather
in a sunset
the last light laps the sky
between you and me
heavy the moon
like a closed flower
waiting waiting
let the sky dissolve
in a blue whisper
slumbering
petals in the dream
fall lightly
stay a little longer
to remind me of you
5
