The Bamboo Hut
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The Bamboo Hut     Number  3    2020



Steve Black


the driest april
now the rain
three days solid
when this is all over
maybe we can start again



isolation beard
i'm thinking viking
russian intellectual
mountain prophet
my wife thinks not



my hands red raw
from too much washing
i apply antiseptic
healing cream
to where the fear got in



locked down before
at boarding school
i learned not to mark the days
found the eternal
one word at a time in poetry class


i wave
from the closed window
at strangers
some now

even wave back



Heather Sager


Nectar


The willows rustle
scuttling the clouds greenish
Your love’s nectar
I never again tasted
Happy

I cannot be



Dave Read


the company proposes

a fresh round
of layoffs --
I make myself small
at my desk


a handful of cars
drive once
busy streets --
the honking
of overhead geese


late summer breeze,
our children grow older …
we rake
the yard clean
of their toys


with all the gyms closed
he plays ball
on our drive --
the arc of a long
summer break


a hummingbird hovers
over buds in the hedge --
I check
his unfinished

homework



Christina Chin


green apples

too tart to bite
baking in a pie


the guard cat
naps in half open eyes
silk cocoon farm


escaping the summer heat
Matterhorn by
moonlight


kids camp
under the teak bench
stay home games


breaking the ice
slurping lemonade

first date



Robert Witmer


cicadas sing

above a child's net
summer ends


the spring
of a pogo stick
mud luscious


icicle moon
a doe-eyed girl
on a black stallion


a frail leaf
traced in stone
mother's smile


concrete shoulders
the city's shadows
a dull knife
on a cutting board

the onion cries



Michael H Lester


he revels

in his own ignominy
like a hog
slogs through the mud
grunting at the food trough



all about her
the scent of lavender
and lilac
lost in an endless field
of rapturous wildflowers



this delirium
accompanied by fever
and chills
a half-eaten mushroom
and Iron Butterfly



her last gasp
a guttural exhalation
from the gallows
barefoot and enshrouded
in a threadbare nightgown



the culmination
of a lifetime of suffering
the slaughter
comes as sweet relief

to the sacrificial lamb



Jim Young


a thousand suns

dancing on the daisies
summer wind


summer
a fly comes in
and goes out again


things we did then
that we would not do now
we want to


chapels
knitted to the valley sides
prayer cushions


‪chickens
‪red combs in the sunset

‪a scratchy record



Rahma Oluwaremilekun Jimoh


corona,

the power of a crown
to lock us all indoors.

bleached sky
a downpour of rain
sends the kids indoors

eyes locked,
hearts seized beating

two became one.



Ashish Narain


at the age of fifty--

green shoots in
the bamboo grove


post-operation--
the beeps and lines
that say he’s there


bland music...
shadows move from gate 2
to gate 4


May morning--
the birdbath brims
with crows


piled up laundry --
the monsoon outlasts

its welcome



John Grey


EARTHQUAKE


earth cracks,
ruptures –
too much stress,
energy overload,
the kind of pain
only a planet can know




PALEONTOLOGY

Fossilized leaves,
ancient bone shards,
dug up and dusted,
plucked right from
Earth’s memory.




MULCH MAN

Studies have shown
that if I stand here
in this same place
for the next two hundred years
black soil will make

something of me yet.



Bryan Rickert


sunset

the last skitterings
of sparrows


sliver moon
what little left there is
between us


love made
we lie under a blanket
of locust song


small town
it’s one stoplight
blinking
through a thin coat
of snow


reciting
her aria
the neighbor’s dog
comes to the fence

and joins in



Isabel Caves


the extinction

of our relationship
bigfoot sighting


fresh daffodils
the get-well card
sprouts sunshine


shifting shapes
of monochrome rain
fur elise


first flight
the owlet bubbles
with moonsong


tear-shaped puddle
a blind wolf

finds the moon



Retinna Bell


Protests


On the hot asphalt
The millions of mourners scream
Stepping towards unseen days

From the hot asphalt
The ghost continues crying
Air still just beyond his grasp




When the Grocers Have All Gone

The whole family lied still
In the quiet, cooling, dark,
The oil warming in the pan.
Pre-onion-cutting tears fell

And every hand stroked her fur.
Her snout rested on the floor
Between two still, giant paws,

Body wrapped in years of trust.



Rachel Rabo Magaji,


morning prayer

for the umpteenth time
a boy nods


hunters moon --
by the den a lion
licking its paws


first shower...
clanking hoes and machetes

at the vegetable garden



Alexander Jankiewicz


so far apart

during the pandemic
yard work
a missed blade of grass uncut

I decide to let it be



hiking
the trail of a firefly
through darkness
the night forest’s path
loses me to the stars




Roberta Beach Jacobson


fighting over

yesterday's popcorn
Central Park crows

drums
of our ancestors
spirited rainfall

her family tree
a weeping willow

war widow



Veronika Zora Novak


painted beauty

seven suns revolve around you!
tonight
I am a wind of darkness
howling at the moon


a second sun
will rise from memories
of laughter
only then I will find peace
from tears of sorrow


rubbing
a dream from my eyes
shooting star
I would not know you
without night


into this world
I arrived broken hearted
to the little dandelion
I whisper,

"Grow!"



Rae Rozman


unplanned explosions

hollow supernova scream-
create something here


Mnemosyne
You credit your Muses
but how quickly you forget
where they came from


these hands, they
want to hold so much

more than air



Lavana Kray


social distance

and protective masks...
snarled
by a scent like yours
in the crowd


self-isolation -
escaping from the children's
room
soap bubbles
along the street


lots of desires
which had shrunk slightly
to a single one -
don't promise me the moon
just dance me in the rain

​
some clouds
touch the ground almost
erotically –
this pressed flower
still stirs me

longing heart,
when you are nowhere
to be found -
I take the place of my cat

on the window ledge



Joy McCall & Steve Wilkinson


the garden's smell after the rain

the rising scent of heady herbs
for a moment I lose myself
free from the world's madness

I pick small leaves of wild thyme
oregano and rosemary
and warm them on the holy fire -
making a spell for peace




May peace come like the evening rain
refreshing as a warm embrace
and let us drink to those now gone
raise a glass and a prayer

the Sunday morning silence
broken by the welcome echo
of the matins bell from the church
- empty of people




Whose lives matter? All lives matter.
in between riots and protests
a pandemic is still raging
and no one seems to care

in my garden magpies screech
the blue tits are feasting on ants
bright finches pick at sunflowers
jackdaws are bickering




Wendy Wilkinson


Turmoil and indecision

Worm wood
Consuming me
From the inside out


Confusion like a mist
Envelops me
Choking my common sense
Nothing is clear


Doubt and self loathing
Keep your friends close..
But your enemies closer
What does that make you


Inner peace..elusive and fleeting
Like the passing of time
A promise broken
Lost forever




Steve Wilkinson


Too many words

from the wisdom of men -
give me the wind
and the songs of birds
and I will find my own peace


Watching clouds drift across the sky
some float this way others that way
I sit in the heat of the sun
and I dream and I drift


Morning poems that speak about life
putting the world's sorrows to rest
I sip orange juice in the sun
as the birds build their nests
​


Listen to the voice of Buddha
listen to the voice of Jesus
hate will never dispel hatred
seek love and pursue it


The wind waves across the grasses
leaving the west and heading east -
coming and going in the breeze
the song of a skylark


Karma

The old masters knew how to paint
breathing life into the canvas
In melancholic mood I muse
what will I leave behind

I will leave behind poems and love
notebooks filled with scribbled words
We will all become memories
as the wheel of time turns

Luscious trees in the landscape
shadows creep from underneath rocks
the sun sends out a blessing
all that you need is here

If I have love and I have peace
the karma of the ages
can weigh me on the scales and then
balance the good with the bad




Joy McCall


moments matter


I listen to the bees buzzing
in the Holm oak near my window
and for a moment I forget
all the cities burning

I watch the sunlight shining
through the leaves of the chestnut tree
and for a moment I forget
lockdown, people dying

I see the wood pigeon sitting
in the grasses in the sunshine
and for a moment I forget
my sorrows, my losses




after days growing warmer
a sudden windy chilly night
I bring back the woolen blankets
and imagine the bare trees



an owl has been calling
every night since the car
shattered my life
slowly I learn his message :
never stop singing your song



morning sounds
the little train rumbling by
a constant cuckoo
the goodnight of the owls
the hunting screaming swifts


on the riverbank, waterbirds
resting in pairs in the sunshine
and an old couple on a bench
laughing low together




Eva Joan


together


wherever we go
no matter this path will lead us
whatever the end may be
we go together
one heartbeat one breath one pain
one soul one touch one love




south wind

when the balmy south wind
writes your longing on my skin
i belong to you more
than to myself
then i am more you
than me ...




time

i put my ear to an hourglass
if it's all quiet
i can hear it ...
the whispering elapsing of time




vow

deep in dark night
next to a dying flame
i will be there
if you call my name



Ed Ahern


We are as common

as dinosaurs once were and
as apt to die off



Roger Watson


above

moon
wood
still
purple
blossom


crab eyes glistening
between
creaking waves


fluttering bamboo
the ancestors
arrive



Cliff Rames


first date--

everything i need to know
in the small talk


sea spray
the toothless sailor’s
salty stories


liberal tears…
accidentally cutting down
a bleeding heart


Buddy’s urn--
the wet slobber
of my kisses


heatwave~
more adults than kids
in the shallow end



Hemapriya Chellappan


behind

the rustling bushes . . .
lovebirds


vampire movie--
breathing down my neck
the sleeping husband


biting cold
his silence
gnawing at me


stars spin
at 600 rotations
per second . . .
yet you ask me why
I keep falling for you


a drop of water
hangs from the tip
of an icicle . . .
what the burden
of adulthood feels like




Marietta McGregor


no koi left

in the water feature
bronze heron


bronze man
flung in the river
gathering storm


fanning the sky
a kestrel hunts
day shadows


autumn stars
dappling a border
windflowers


Hiroshima Day
children’s paper cranes
in primary colours




Michael H Lester & Joy McCall


she gathers up

her cracked and broken bones
to reassemble
when the reaper comes
so she can die proper

fretting
when they take my leg
to incinerate -
how will I walk

when I get to heaven?



what ecstasy!
to glide through the air
on virgin wings--
the peregrine fledgling
grants clemency to a mouse

the mouse
watching the shadow
scurries quick
under the hedge
and back to safety




Michael H Lester & Neil Brooks


we both couldn't sleep
infundibulum I said
is such a cool word
go back to sleep said my bride
but how can I now

my cerebellum
several pieces of which
have come loose
lost somewhere in the apex
of my infundibulum




Elaine Patricia Morris


these faded curtains

floral patterns just tints now
all those sunny days


my garden sky
no criss cross trails
no one drawing kisses


is it aubretia
that slow abseils down walls
Mum knew all the names


daffodils trumpet
away from the wind
I too turn my back


I never realised
how much I missed water
its light and reflection
where truth looks back at you
in teasing ripples



John Mons


Halt, Earth,

contemplate
the half-filled plate--


There's a song
when the ferry says,
So long--


The rooster crows,
the dawn comes;
how time bows to fowls--



Pat Davis


writer's block

the pen I pick up
out of ink


toy box
two kids grab the same
bubble wrap


outdoor dining
the persistence
of pigeons


donated food
her kids eat oranges
for the first time


the now so fragile
I give thanks
for what is left



Nika


evening haze

the backup man restrings
his guitar


morning moon
through frosted windows
last night's dream


mustered out . . .
returning home as uncertain
as leaving


pandemic
every cupboard
twice cleaned


spring thaw
the bagman wraps his shoes
in plastic bags



Bruce England


Even Before Coronavirus


Scavengers wander
in Silicon Valley:
raccoons, coyotes,
and possums, our neighbors
now, and they own the night

Human-wary crows
flock in our trees, and
Canadian geese, and
ducks now live year-round
in our parks and ponds

Mountain lions, and
bears, and deer, oh my!
they roam in for food
and the bears love using
our pools and hot tubs




Alarm
ends a dream,
the day passes
in dreams, sleep
begins a dream


I begin to write
a butterfly in the yard
staring from my work
a butterfly in the yard
I begin to write



Mirela Brăilean


summer nights –

the deafening sound
of the crickets


petals on the river -
the houses on the shore
covered one by one


white lilac bushes -
on the top of the mountain
some snow patches


sunset -
an elderly couple
hand in hand


summer clouds –
floating on the sea
white swans




Jibril Dauda Muhammad


sudden rain...

the aftermath of
chopping onions


village panorama...
from the hut
the rising smoke


drifting clouds paving way for a cloudless sky


before rain...
the whirling sound of spring breeze
through the window


in between
my windows net
morning sunray



Marilyn Ashbaugh


gaslighting what happened to flower power



contagion always needles and pills


Pan-demics the new game of thrones


masked my smartphone plays dumb


breakup he zoomed out



Anna Goluba


Beyond the Time (from two perspectives)



Spring equinox
For a moment
Reflected in the pond
Trees which
Don't exist here anymore


Spring equinox
For a moment
Reflected in the pond
Trees which
Will grow here in the future

​



Full Moon
Night is getting light
With the dark beer


Just before going to bed
After switching the light off
For a moment I'm standing
In the darknesss waiting
For my room to emerge from it
Again


Getting lost
In the unknown woods
I feel that he stands
Right behind me...
Yeti




Ben Gaa


sleepless night

the crunch
of the cat’s snack


moving through
the morning mist
egrets


busy day at the park
the many conversations
of birds


afternoon heat
tea leaves settle
in a mason jar


park walk
a passing dog
realigns my smile




Jessica Hoard


like a lover

warm against my body
Chinese take-out for one


the closeness
of reading Basho to you
this autumn evening


the harlot moon has drawn
her paramours about her
the burning stars


a dark curl turns
at the nape of his neck
night gathers


campus lights turn on
a dozen full moons
hang low in the sky




Chen-ou Liu


climbing each night

from this black hole
of quarantine blues
I stop and listen
to the midnight silence


jasmine breeze
a teen clickety-clacks
on his keyboard


river's edge
Father casting a thread
of sunset glow


campaign promises
a cloud of starlings
shape-shifting


two dragonflies
intertwined in mating ...
alone
my wrinkled face

shimmers on the stream



Rashmi VeSa


looping

in my memory carousel
this pain
stretching the present
to an eternity

skipping stones...
the splash of clear water
I imbibe
the stars of the sky sprinkling
grace on this blemished self

slotting
my sorrows
in the shade chart
the merging of light

and darker darkness



Tiffany Shaw-Diaz


i close my eyes

and breathe in
slowly
light pours through
each window


leaves gently
fall towards the earth
how easy
it is to love
all of nature’s beauty


while the world
shatters around me
i will pretend
a rainbow is waiting
to ignite a blackened sky


this morning
full of rain and gray
thank you
for giving me
a space to ache




Margaret Owen Ruckert


my eyelids open

to the daily stresses
light greets me
through shrouds of smoke …
I forget about rainbows


in midwinter’s freeze
girls in short, white dresses
prayer books in hand
stand outside their church
warmed by tradition


Hydrangea
Agapanthus
Christmas bush
my mother’s garden
now grows in mine


on this bonsai
a few dead-white branches
are left as symbols …
it’s impossible to hide
a patch of grey hair


after deadly storms
right across the country
there’s light
on the horizon …
we plan for tomorrow




Gail Brooks


there’s a pillow

a fresh case protecting it
from a world
that hangs heavy on my head
and thoughts that smother my mind


it’s seductive
walking the unknown streets
finding birdhouses
covered with flowering vines
begging me to join the songs


three buddhas
jade, ivory and amber
bought for luck
maybe I should have waited
to roll the dice in Vegas


is it ignoble
to feign the weariness of age
and stay indoors
while cities hurt and burn
and young people try to change the world?


the edges
of the rust and gold pillow
are frayed
hard to tell what caused it
unless it’s witness to my life



John Han


summer loneliness

a stray cat rubs his head
against me


summer lake
catching nothing but
an azure sky


mountain guru
sitting with prayer beads
his cell phone rings


social distancing
showing kindness by
staying away


pandemic
losing interest
in football news




Keith Nunes


Home


not a homeless poem
it has a home, with me
it’s about me
where I go they don’t know
but I care, you see
I finally care about me




Belong

Those circling birds don’t belong here
‘What do you mean?’
I’ve never seen them here before
‘What does that mean?’
Maybe we don’t belong here anymore




Fish life

All their professions related to the sea
Or the factory
Most young women didn’t stay
Horizons for them were less boundary
More open door




Tom Staudt


after the storm

he collects drift wood
bones of old trees


morning dew
a ladybug gazes
at her reflection


rainstorm
two ants cling to a twig
riding the rapids


it’s raining here
I hear myself
echoing in the phone line--
we rarely talk anymore
weather is an icebreaker


a dragon
chasing its tail
for a brief moment
then sunbeams
evaporate the scene




Carmela Marino


swallows tattooed-

all the moments
that I didn't live


rose bud-
a memory doesn't find
way out


wild flowers-
the flowing water
doesn't send away the shadow


a paved heart-
the missing part
to the moon tonight


avenue of stars-
a scent of leather
leaves silence




John Parsons


wild cherries

from the gean hang
hooked on barbed wire
like lost lives
they still hold
a touch of sweetness


we stand and stare
at the full moon
as it floats over the sea
strangers in a new town
somewhere a fox cries
as if to call us home


Passing ants exchange familiarities
along a stretch of path, some time
later, they return to meet again
and renew, as they continually
retrace steps.
Are we any different?


how soon they raise heads
these daisies I plant
in my scrap of wild meadow,
what more can I give
this last surviving oak, but
a ring of ferns about its roots


the small round bed
I make in her memory
holds scabeous
her wedding flowers
to conjure that face
engraved on my heart




Maria Concetta Conti


​summer wedding

the clouds are clearing
away


old photo
five lights
in the night sky


she and I
before we was born
summer light


autumn rain
what happens when
the last petal falls?


tiny moon
enjoying the sight
of the way back




Gavin Austin


street corner

a magnolia bloom holds
the dying day


night heron
a drop of moonlit ocean
on its beak


the morning sun
melts last night’s frost…
his eyes glassy
begging absolution
with another apology


this trip
you stopped texting
your silence
mapping the future
you’ve chosen for us


these scars
in the morning mirror
…a grisly
yet constant reminder
of my glorious victory


​





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