The Bamboo Hut Number 4 2020
Giuliana Ravaglia
a lark again
on the windowsill in the morning
it spans the horizon
the waterfall of the firmament
words chase each other
in the golden shadow of the evening
in your bare hands
the silence of an avid blues
in the shade of wisteria
raids of blooming dawns
I still chase you
my dishevelled spring
Ron Scully
full moon humbles
night blooming magnolia
breaths innocence
flighty butterfly
lights on a Chrysanthemum
needs no reason
origami cygnet
broken wing unfolds slowly
signs white silence
white lotus cloud
drift on Mirror Lake
rudderless
Tiffany Shaw-Diaz
awaiting
the cooler days of fall
i curl into
a book
as thick as the moon
it’s late at night
and i might be
the only one awake
to watch the softness
of your breath
lay upon our home
first the lightning
then the thunder
when a dream
finds parts of my soul
i had yet to discover
that feeling
when you first wake up
here but so far away
i want to on hold on
to that moment
just a few seconds longer
after rising from sleep
waves of life
crash upon me
perhaps it’s a good thing
i have always loved
an untamed ocean
Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo
in this house
since you are not here
the sun is burning
birds find salvation
in cold remoteness
a day identical
to uniform days
between sun and moon
for one drop of joy
I have to see the sea
your sweat ...
on my skin
a salty dew
was it all
just a dream?
Christina Chin
sheets curing
in the smokehouse
the smell of rubber
wildlife park
the petting zoo closes
indefinitely
autumn clouds
the dug trenches drench
in buckets of tears
parliament debate
the owl strikes
its prey
forest fire
the parrot mimics
a cough
Taofeek Ayeyemi
dry farming . . .
the cry of a partridge
I do not see
a quick scuffle
on the crawl path . . .
mamba's tail
the stench
of rodenticide
fills the room . . .
exhibited phobia
of lassa fever
vernal equinox --
the blossoms and the colour
of his bow tie
gong beat --
a fountain splashing
over a metal box
Abdulazeez Shomade
misty morning. . .
bride mourns
her deceased husband
abortion--
sister weeps over
her cancelled wedding
lavender blossom. . .
mango leaf wafting in mid-air
as stork stalks a snail
Scott Wiggerman
walking in sand
the distance
between us grows
bruised skies--
promise of rain
sting of hail
sleepy droplets
caress the garden
female rain
socially distant
and yet the scent
of his cologne
welcoming
the dark side
stargazing
Gerald Northcutt
Of all the mortal men...
None have been more important...
Than he, when called "Dad"
Who you are today...
The sum of your yesterday's...
For your tomorrow.
Music builds a bridge...
As we look at each other...
Through generations.
Bakhtiyar Amini
inscription on the asphalt
a truck running over
the heart itself
oh Rio, Rio
from year to year
from dream to dream
candyfloss
melting in the mouth
childhood
Elancharan Gunasekaran
imprisoned
in glass towers
ember clouds
slow breathing
dusk
water for
parched shadows
peeling darkness from concrete first light
flat above
glass breaking
i remember
grownups screaming
Jibril Dauda Muhammad
withered leaves...
a black mamba
finds home
election day...
thumbing ballots
amid fear
stepping
into the theatre
in their face
the shape of
unsolved equation
sudden spark
on the power line
the birds scatter
covid rules...
our shadows
keep in touch
Kathleen Vasek Trocmet
stepping out of the car
into an air-bomb
of barnyard smells
swallows swirl above
the rooster cupola
reminders of my ancestry
old woman
signs hello
to the new day
her fingertips
touch the tree
where sparrows sing
while he waits
does Schrodinger's cat
meow
the raven silent
in the barn shadows
black shiny eyes gleam
in the lantern's light ...
midnight calving
mom's family album --
tears come easier
as each page is turned
Roberta Beach Jacobson
Of The Forest
when
I am a tree
I am strong
before
the leaves came
I was the trunk
in the forest
my wood is
weathered
Willie R. Bongcaron
clinging vine
the host playing dead
and dumb
such bright colors
her silk kimono
harvest moon
only for tonight playing
with the fireflies
morning calm
each second i browse
from the bay window
honeycomb...
the long-awaited
delivery day
Michael H Lester
What Sound Does a Dead Man Make?
the neighbor boy
a walking onomatopoeia
his sound effects
carefully calibrated
as if by tuning fork
leaning forward
motoring down the sidewalk
on his tricycle
he mimics the sound
of a roaring engine, Vroom!
quivering
as he releases an arrow
from his bow
he supplies the whoosh
and the reverberating twang
pedalling
his little red fire truck
past my house
you can hear him clanging
and whoop, whoop-whooping
his coup de grace
the sound of a machine gun
in Vietnam
where he utters his last
rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat-tat
Michael H Lester & Joy McCall
a poet
can’t possibly wish
for her poems
to languish in obscurity
like the dark side of the moon
what could be better
than seeing the universe
from the other side?
the mouse, the witch dance
with the lunatic on the grass
Lavana Kray
the sea
is a tear in the window -
this agoraphobia
that grows in the ever-widening
space between me and you
if I were a leaf,
I would take a roundabout...
however
is the end of my road,
it has a no return sign
poplars in the wind -
my twin shadow left
the shore;
little waves of the lake
distorting my face
a day to cry
among old memories
in the attic -
the rain keep changing
its tempo on the roof
if you come
and can't find me anymore,
take a look among stones -
I'm still waiting for you
in our secret place
Eva Joan
safe at night
i feel your closeness
when the moonlight
wanders golden
through bare branches
when all heaviness all suffering
is lost in the darkness
advisedly
i lay my words
- advisedly -
like stones
into the deep ocean of stillness
day and night
every day without you
and every night
hurts me more
than any injury
more than all my scars
longing
a single
lonely delicate soul
drifts lost in silence
between glittering stars
longing flies far into infinity
and beyond
dust
dear moonlight ... please
breathe imagination
between all these lines
up there
where in the deep blue
unwritten words
have fallen to dust
Anthony V Villanti Jr
sun sets at days end
creatures of the night wake up
the moon watches all
angry sea rages
shore surrenders its bounty
rocks covered with foam
echo of loons cry
canyons carry the sad song
wind through the pine trees
hawk waits eyes it’s prey
below rabbits scurry for dens
Mother Nature directs
sharp scythe stands ready
wheat stands tall in golden sun
no prisoners spared
Rp Verlaine
unable to keep
my eyes on the steps
i fall for her shadow
above mine
on the steps
she exhales
smoke from her cigarette
while the pond water
we share swallows
the ash
children in cages
is now the norm
the highlight of their day;
standing in cramped halls
while their rooms are cleaned
with no more faith
than when I had entered
I leave the church
to bury a friend
who would want a drink now
in the ruins
of a hurricane's wake
we walk like zombies
our shadows touching
all we have left
moonlit
how the city rats
have grown
Joan C Fingon
catching fresh breezes
the bronzed seal gleams
in the sunlight
taking in the view
at the old barn
flashlights in hand
ghost shadows
grabbing the newspaper
off the front porch
in the early morning
the neighbor’s cat
greets me on the step
on a cool September night
laying on a cozy warm blanket
stargazing listening
to a chorus of crickets
Perfection
standing in line
imagining the fluffy white
foam rimmed cinnamon
flavored coffee
in my hands
Anna Goluba
The Pere Lachaise...
It's like
They all could wake up
In a moment
Journey
Into the unknown...
One kiss
Provokes another
Middle of the night...
His strong restful voice
Right into my ear
Straight from the radio
Deep silence
A frog
Hesitates
Sinking Titanic
Another piercing scream
In the delivery room
John J Dunphy
front yard
couple plant a rose bush
where the cross was burned
light drizzle
waiting by his driveway
my late neighbor's dog
Mount Rushmore
couple with children point out
the slave-holders
long line
I arrive at check-out with
two haiku
cave exploration
on the tip of a stalagmite
dried blood
Chen-ou Liu
my parents
keep silent all the way
to the airport ...
outside the window
a kite with no string
twirling spaghetti
around her silver fork
without eating ...
the tie between us severed
by her knife-sharp silence
at 3 am
flickers of light
covidsomnia
gathering dark
cry of a neighbor's baby
the only sound
a line of crows
on the White House fence
smoky twilight
Joy McCall & Steve Wilkinson (ryuka pairs)
solitude comes so rarely
these crazy days; I hold it
close to me and sing old songs -
that's when the poems come
Sing me a song of solitude
when all the world has gone to sleep
may the darkness give birth to poems
that are purer than light
A silken thread of spider's web
Glistens in the morning sunshine
A cabbage white rides on the breeze
And vanishes from sight
shadows on the long dry grass
come and go as clouds race by
across the almost-autumn sky ...
random thoughts fill my mind
Mirela Brăilean
my ankylosed fingers
walking on the piano keys
what shrills sounds
just in my memory
the perfect melody
my prosthetic knee
leans against the bed -
I woke up late
in my dream
I had ran
all night
in the spider web not only its life story
the rice pickers
in the setting sun -
calligraphy
behind the fog
inside the fog
the fog itself
Debbie Strange
The Birds Inside My Ribcage
railway spur the to and fro of meadowlarks
blown cattails
moorhen prints emboss
the mud
circles of sun
in the peregrine's eyes . . .
windy bluff
smoky moon
a sandhill crane's
rusty crown
solstice
the snowy sky freckled
with crows
Matsukaze & Joy McCall
we reach our peak
then begin our descent
diminishing ...
aging and growing older
until we return to dust
ashes to ashes
the fire within
is burning low
I turn over the cinders
looking for faith
Janice Doppler
muddy trail
the sound as my heel
breaks the suction
corn stalks rustle
rear legs and a tail
vanish
beach walk
the taste of salt
on skin
ripe cherries
the still warm pie
disappears
missing tooth
beneath her pillow
a coin
Monk Gabriel & Joy McCall
limping
and all-embraced,
we will one day
squeeze through
His narrow gate
one day
the loving voice
will call us
to rise up
and walk
Alex Fyffe
dusty piano
just another thing
I almost learned
therapy
she says it's nice to have
someone who listens
wet bathroom tiles
the scent of freshly opened
Necco wafers
Joy McCall
twilight in the stone circle
his hand on the grey capstone
past, present and future come
slipping though his fingers
restless through the dark of night
I wake weary and look outside
and in the sunlit brickweave
a yellow dandelion
the river flows down the ages
the bedrock is littered with bones
old souls are washing out to sea ...
from the source, the spring rises
a long dark feather, turning
falling to the quiet ground
its flight over, it rests ready
beside the dark inkwell
thunderstorms and lashing rain
the sky dark, the roads flooded
the garden girl sends a text -
shall I water tonight?
Sherry Grant
Buddha Alive in Stone
downcast, quietly suffering
deep, perpetual contemplation
oh Enlightened One, teaching this
world, having lost its way
The Shining Ones
nature’s elemental spirits
in exile, civilisations
like mushrooms, sprouting instantly
the shining ones returned
Flight of Colour and Bliss
flight in pairs, rainbow phoenixes
sped away, radiance fading
glimpse into a magical world
no longer shared with us
Ingress
entrance, mystical dimension
beyond these steps, another world
determined, our destination
future in suspension
Awake, Aware and Going Somewhere
omnipresent, with prying eyes
our nature suddenly awake
aware, maybe going somewhere
observing behaviours
* Sherry's poems are inspired by the artwork of Jennifer Baird. See images below.
www.jenniferbairdartist.com
Veronika Zora Novak
choking
on its cacophony . . .
murder of crows
Venus
merely an ornament
in the night sky
tonight, my long tresess
fallen to the earth
tangled . . .
backward glances
of albatross moons
above us . . .
an orchestra
of stars
moonbathing
I slip out of the stars
of my kimono
Juan Edgardo De Pascuale
Sunlight rolling over
the maple tree,
not a single leaf moves
dark thoughts
at night
made light
by the brightness
of the stars
sprawled
on the church steps
waiting for God
to arrive
--a homeless man
at the wake
the old priest
made too much
out of nothing,
nothing at all
spinning on the bar stool
my hungry heart
looked through
her lonely eyes
--straight to the door
Suraj Nanu
A brief call
Driving up hairpins
through the hill tracts
at night
light beams
lost in the sky..
a royal mansion
smell of coffee
and pepper
labyrinth of the past.
on the upper canopy
of the woods
a giant squirrel
sieving
the sunlight.
a red hat
hide in the bush
sound
of a gunshot.
unknown lake
in the new moon
a white scarf
floating.
driving downhill
it is still
drizzling
in the heights.
WWW.
a curated hall of cobwebs....
Peter Adair
at least at least…
summer sky
unmasked
a few more petals
fall from the sunflower –
autumn fog
even in rain
the sunflower hails the old man –
withered friends
in the autumn sun
a fly on a bramble leaf…
brief home
buddleia
rooted in the pavement
going nowhere
Zahra Mughis
monsoon mist
tracing distant lights
on window panes
rising wind
free in the blue sky
my paper plane
blooming early
the colors of autumn --
september dusk
etching dreams
in a stranger's house
the woodworker
stargazing
by the river
unasked
questions
answered
Keith Polette
childhood days . . .
those bright streets
with no names
end of summer
the frayed cuffs
of my work shirt
home again
the river rising
behind me
the moon
once a stranger
my beloved
spilled coins
the loose confederation
of myself
Paweł Markiewicz
autumnal buckrams
the last roses dreaming of
flowering seasons
the ramson in fall
I would need tender feeling
of the meekest world
Cherry A
strutting of peacock
on the roof
first drop of rain
rainbow colours
one after another
circling kois
jasmine blossoms
memories of mother
all over the house
after our argument
the weight of
his words
pied cuckoo ...
the sound of rain
on leaves
David Watts
after dusk
the tree roots exhale
chill on the lawn
what use
the naked branches
windows in a tree
towhee
on the branch
aroma of rain coming
R.K. Singh
covid-19
reading the astral transit
ceaseless lockdown
oversanitised hands
playing 'stairway to heaven'
the rivers
decayed into sewers
revive in lockdown:
no plastic bottles, no bags
and fishes swim near the banks
ridicule
their exploring gaze
veiled women
with colours, patterns
and seismic movement
I'm not alone
waking up in the grave--
angels await
my rise to eternity
my love's union again
Ramona Linke & Helga Stania
Down the Log Road
nothern shrike
yesterday still
the winter moor’s soul
in the light of blue hour the sundew
thoughts about
Olafur Eliasson’s
symbiotic seeing
down the log road shreds of our yearning
as image
joins to image
──dragonfly eye
A Raku Bowl
Jaybo aka Monk’s
Olympic Antilope
…wind is getting up
into silence── Four Last songs
divine drama
beyond the old Nō-Theater
the crescent
a Raku bowl a good deal of inspirations
Graffiti
Girl with Balloon*
... always on my mind
*Girl with Balloon (There is Always Hope), Banksy, London
Nivedita Karthik
The bechamel sauce is bubbling in the saucepan
and my memories go to another day, another dinner…
…The scene shifts to a hospital room
where the monitor above the bed beeps loud and long
The end? Yes,
it is the fire alarm signaling my burned, now unsalvageable sauce.
No matter how many times you
try to tell me how to
live my life,
in solidarity with my inner self I stand
marching to the beat of my own drum.
Just a weekend trip you said.
Let’s go the beach and have some fun, you said.
To the seaside I went,
holding onto you carefully, not yet ready to lose this moment.
And then, let go I did and watched
as your ashes gently floated on the waves at dusk.
Maya Daneva
stillborn
her family planting
a baby pine tree
dark night
she plays
a waxing moon
waxing moon
he searches
her dark sides
after a summer hailstorm
I catch a whiff of
the neighbor’s barbecue
carving wood
all her years
before we met
Joy McCall & Larry Kimmel
growing older
we don't rush in
where angels
fear to tread – we sit
watching, waiting
getting my affairs in order –
it’s too much.
I unfocus on the willow’s
spilling branches
space out on the soothing swans
all night I dream
of English breakfast
eggs on buttered toast
a loud jackdaw
raids the dove's nest
all day thinking
of sweet potatoes with lumps
of brown sugar
a bevy of hummingbirds gather
around the quince bush
Hemapriya Chellappan
row after row
of silver wheat
Van Gogh night
ghost moon a poem writes itself
whistling wind
a babbler broods
in silence
deadwood
three perched
little boys
winter stillness I practice crow
B.A. France
black and yellow
swallowtails together
... shared harvests
pink hibiscus
demanding afternoon
rum drinks
rereading Montaigne
... quiet joy in a mind
at play
another dish towel
hanging sideways from her tooth
another chase
claiming a space
high in the dying oak
... buzzards watching
Lakshmi Iyer
first flight:
the kingfisher opens
the morning sky
Hiroshima day -
memories unfold
in the fallen blooms
city tour -
I visit my neighborhood
on virtual meet
train journey -
the gibbous moon
slips on my pillow
off-beat ...
pitter patter of raindrops
on a plantain leaf
Susan Burch
warm blanket
how cold you are
still gets to me
air hockey
can I win
this argument
stationary bike
this relationship
going nowhere
fast-moving clouds
how quickly
you turn on me
panic attack
everything
is in his name
Clifford Rames
summer cinema
the flare of a falling star
during Titanic
wild clover—
learning to step over
bumblebees
sunken pumpkin
the old farmer harvests
his false teeth
Plácido Domingo…
the pitch perfect tenor
of tinnitus
Amish Country
the livestock odor
not in the brochure
Chad Lee Robinson
Independence Day--
by lighting
his own sparkler
my son's outgrowing
even me
my dead brother . . .
a dragonfly
between the years
my blood
my horse's blood
this hard land
fish story
the bottles of beer it takes
to believe it
small town store
a cat napping
next to the tuna
Robert Witmer
a little boy
shows his pinwheel
to a windmill
dusk
lighting her almond eyes
oboe d'amore
fallen
into fallen leaves
toy soldier
a shovel rusts
under wet leaves
small bones
an empty spoon
in a child's hand
the bottom
of an empty pot
black as night
Xenia Tran
old neighbour
she escapes once more
from the care home
an inner light still guides her
to a world beyond our own
there is no sound
from the puddles in our street
only silence
where the wind just blew
and rattled all the rafters
hiking in the dark
to watch the moonrise
we see
a lone man's silhouette
climb the next mountain
all through Coigach
where his father used to walk
a camera
carries brand new memories
to bring the old man home
(Coigach is a peninsula in the North-West Highlands of Scotland)
his grey hair
full of sunlight
the sea retreats
Keith Nunes
Traffic loud even at a standstill
Another jet takes off
How big will this city get?
There must be a queen here
To attract this many bees
Off in the distance
The chameleon mountains
Change their clothes whenever
The calendar changes its mind
The icing of snow has
Melted away revealing
Indistinct black blurs that
Register as the peak of something
Nothing in this room will
Function as it was designed to do
Without my input
In here, I’m omnipotent
Feels like it’s raining in here
Monsooning me with an inexplicable guilt
A singer said it always rained on him because he lied at 17
I’ve been lying off and on for 50 years
It's a hard rain coming down
Steve Black
sweating on a new path
in the spinney
in the corner of my eye
my winged comrade
flying his red flag
digging holes
for fence posts
sitting in the sky
a crow with a lot to say
for itself
down time
chasing likes
from virtual strangers
the algorithm
of the heart
trying to get ahead
of the arthritis
i recall those i loved
and the few
who loved me back
the sea takes
my son's sand castle
before he is ready
i tell him
you're never ready
Gavin Austin
a fleeting sunset
leaves the lake as dusk settles
at its sedges--
your smile caged in glass
now lights up a silver frame
at her table
she serves tea in fragile
floral cups…
no one sees the demons
waiting for darkness
shafts of sunlight
through the picket fence—
her days
of strung grey hours lit
by visiting grandchildren
her name
carved in sandstone
the wind’s ancient song
pathology...
sibling rivalry
for a donor match
Tom Staudt
the weirdness
of feeling nothing--
conundrum
lockdown blues
a fly watches us
watching TV
so much hair
in every brush--
oncology ward
tearing away
the chains of existence
our tears taste saltier
when they flick the switch
you’re too noisy
the old crow from downstairs
complains...
then she starts feeding
a murder of crows
Erin J. Jones
a snake on a rock
enjoying the warm sunshine
lazy summer day
a lone vulture
standing sentry on a branch
waits patiently
spring day on the lake
everything is in bloom
and warm sunshine
project completed
a sense of satisfaction
lingers
two robins
the first of the spring
welcome home
Steve Wilkinson
Maple leaves on a wooden bridge
autumn descends like an angel
Whispering good news to the air
all things will be renewed
a hot September afternoon
pine trees swaying in the breeze
and me unable to shake this
cognitive dissonance
My words become the winter wind
blowing across the frozen fields
there is no one left to listen
no one left to care
For many years I've sailed this sea
ridden the peaks and the troughs
rudderless now and cast adrift
unsure of where to go
I am a leaf on the tree
transitioning into autumn
I am yellow, orange and gold
spreading joy till the end
