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
