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Current Issue
​September 2024

The Bamboo Hut     September 2024


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​Autumn carries a bittersweet mixture of emotions, as the crisp air brings a sense of nostalgia and quiet reflection. The vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows of the falling leaves evoke warmth and wonder, yet they also serve as a reminder of nature’s inevitable cycle of decay and renewal. There's a serene, almost melancholic beauty in watching the world slow down, as shorter days and cooler nights invite introspection. The rustle of leaves underfoot and the golden glow of the late afternoon sun create a comforting sense of peace, balanced by the quiet awareness that winter is drawing near. It’s a season that stirs both gratitude for the present and a gentle yearning for what is passing.

Tanshi in this issue


Jenny Fraser

Tipping Point
the cyclone’s 
rain drenched summer 
music fest--
from kitchen to shearing shed 
. . . shifting our camp

making room for rivers   
the thought swirling
   around 
      and through—    
will we ever learn 

tropical storms 
fires and floods ...
what if we                   
the trespassers
on Papatūānuku
*Papatūānuku -Maori name for Mother Earth


Tuyet Van Do
first week home
she asks to visit
her son

feeble legs
on the gravel path
she looks for his name

mid morning rays
under the rose bushes
his plaque among strangers

misty eyes
she places fresh flowers
mother's love unbound





Oscar Luparia

AI
the group of aspiring haijin                                             
will grow    

kintsugi
the new cup I broke
deliberately

climate change
my ex-friend told me
it’s a fake problem

wind turbines...
the Earth seems
a little lighter

weekend
my not to-do list
got

l

o

n

g

e

r



Andy McCall

I want the world
filled with the sound
of silence
so I can hear
all the birds and animals


the lone seagull
crossing a sky full of tears
the sound of wings
beating against the wind -
my heart lifts
 

Tony Marcoff  & Joy McCall 

I'll drop my dreams 
into the ocean 
they will become 
waves & whales 
& stars 


tossing my hopes
into the flowing river
they sink down
and settle among
stones and reeds


Joy and Andy McCall

I lit the candle
to make a wish for him
it burned long
leaving the scent of mocha
on the holy air
 
the candle burns
long into the night
shadows on the wall
my mind like the flame
fragile in the wind
 
Joy McCall
Island    (candlemass 2024)

the brown Bear
is stirring
in the den
the Wild Girl wakes
and starts to sing
 
the Child
shifts and smiles
in the darkness
the Poet sits musing
on words and meanings
 
the dappled Horse dozes
under the tall trees
the Raven circles once
then settles high
in the old pine tree
 
light rain falls
and the full moon shines
on wet grass
the low tide turns
on sand, stones and bones


Maryam Mermey

        she pushes her sister 
           in a wheelchair  
        hydrangeas turning pink


     plush epaulette shark
     in her arms
  so young for fibromyalgia 


     farmers’ market prequel
      father & son have a moment 
    leaning back
    on the veggie truck


      crow stands
      in front of Buddha’s face
       first day of spring


  at the heart
    of a heart~shaped garden
     peonies 
   the color of a blush


Jenny Ward Angyal & Joy McCall


I walk
the beautiful Earth
for you,
and send you poems
like footsteps. 
 
I leave the footprint
of my poems
on the damp ground
a small mouse sits there
nibbling paper scraps


David He

prayers
around Gran's bed...
fading lily
 
an owl cries
on the window sill...
my last guest
 
the guests
cheer to Gran...
cool sunset
 

Robert Witmer

singing
to a bowl of fruit
the aging parakeet


alone at the summit
starless
and small


hope
a spark
on the anvil


her needlepoint
in a dusty drawer
rain on a frozen pond


no one to turn

the hourglass over
dust on the easy chair


Adrian Bouter

the world
as we know it
blue hydrangea


closing time
the unfinished poem
on a beer mat


hard rain...
my head sinks deeper
in the pillow

cats don't fail me now cold nights come


storm rages in
tall trees
waving at nothing


Simon De Courcey

spindle whorls
she narrates summer
with her hands


her half song
through hawthorns
spring breeze


fugitive moon
quickening ice
in the barrel


Roberta Beach Jacobson

dawn the sky wakens in blue


gravestone
her family name covered 
in moss


earth's children
waken one-by-one . . .
Mother Nature's kiss


Randy Brooks

looking both ways
a hitch hiker undresses
the scarecrow


Milky Way sky
she lays back against me
in the canoe


nursing home parking lot
another dead
truck battery


Emil Karla

uncertain steps…
summer rain tapping
on the umbrella




the vanishing cry
of a seagull
night falls on the shore

frozen display
one place after the other
outside the train window



petro c. k.


blue moon 
the oldies channel 
mum liked



king tide around my ankles I'm not royalty


museum closing hour
Jupiter and Venus
together in the dark 


Bryan Rickert

shrunken pond
the herons
taking sides


night walk
the tensile strength
of spiderwebs


island time
what the ocean does
to this stone


cats fight
across the patio
the heat!


Chen-ou Liu


Land of the Free


early leaf fall ...
I drift where the thoughts
of my exile life
take me today [ten years
and an ocean apart]


in dim light
I'm just a temp in the attic
waiting alone
for another gig ...
chants from afar of USA!


midnight wander
my drunk shadow and old dog
set their own paces




skylight
my baby’s laughter
rises to the stars




setting sun flickers
in an empty beer bottle ...
summer's end


Evan Coram

twilight
silhouettes of birds
sift the bones of trees


on a branch dangles
a lost hook
a dragonfly


   last cigarette
         morning fog thickens
with mourning dove calls


Ruth Holzer


diplopia
everything
looks like everything


moving away--
for the next-door neighbor
a raspberry


a wren
taps at the window
early dusk




Ram Chandran 


 robin song from backyard...
why does it always remind me
the last words you spoke
before parting …


when I  walk through
the meadow mist
the song of the cowherd
oh,  how the spring morning begins


on the shore
a few steps forward
a few steps backwards...
the ebb and flow of my life


extending arms towards sun
in morning prayer,
a butterfly touched my forehead
and gone before I opened the eyes




Joy McCall & Roger Jones


the coffin
was lowered into the grave
and on the long bench
the weary bearers rested
while the family wept




it’s been given a new name
but the old store
& block around it
are still the same

I’m happy when I pass it


Joanna Ashwell


becoming a dream
this bone-filled sky
of turning darkness
already the sweep
of hunger fills my sky
 
finding the corner
where roses twist
within the wall
my heart folds the light
beam by beam
 
the open rafters
a cuckoo song
finding a way in
 
willingly lost
within the rainfall…
forest leaves
 
window frost
the reflection of you
cast in shadow

 
Joshua St. Claire.


     will I ever take another breath?
river stone



apogee and perigee
the circling black vulture
never touches the red pines





nursing home window
three or four chickadees
gather then take flight



Ellen Woods


flat tire halts movement
you step in to fill the need
I'm dizzy with awe
decades self-sufficient
Cala unfolding   late spring




sitting next to you
listening to Vivaldi
heat steams rainy panes


red maple in spring
overnight
buds burst   blaze of red
sunlit leaves shimmer in wind
fireworks in my soul




Neena Singh

years of labor…
the rusty lawnmower
laid to rest


sitting close
to the blind beggar
a three-legged dog


fog veils the lake…
just the silence
of lapping water


twilight rain 
a sonata plays
in the patio




Ravi Kiran


dew covered grass
the footwear
in my hand


waiting room
the seconds hand
not moving


surrounded by
grey and white clouds
a patch of blue
 
slot canyon
the language
of an eagle


Dennis Owen Frohlich


the lull between storms
the night insects sing,
making up for lost time


Japanese maple
surface leaves of burgundy
hide the green within

endless lavender
a woman becomes a girl
under the sapphire sky



Govind Joshi 


monsoon morning
the park trees framing
the couple on the bench


newly married
the eccentricity
of his shirts


whispering
over the toddler's sleep
storytelling father




Mike Fainzilber

soft shell crab
no more chinks
in my armor


dictionary of lost words
dodos
and daffodils…
 
silencing the silent
only the voiceless 
remain


Jerome Berglund 


cross
on the wall
swollen belly


scar 
tissue 


god 


is 
a 
dialectic 




M. R. Pelletier


A squirrel turns
an acorn cup--
dharma wheel


Donut shop--
their hands talk silently
over coffee


“Innumerable”--
the number of syllables
in Billy’s haiku




Diane Webster


desert sunrise
a coffee mug steams
on the deck railing
 
stained glass window
sunshine breaks in and out
church floor dust


 
midnight fog
illuminated by porch light
blackboard chalk dust




Suzanne Leaf-Brock


fantail guppies--
more branches sprout
on the willow trunk
​

rapid fire
reciting what
he memorized


summer afternoon
a pause in chit chat
how the quiet fills in


 Timothy Daly


my parents 
walking ahead of me 
through the branches
of the shaded wood
I know I can’t 
hold on to them 



I thought I was just
teaching kids English
and I guess I did 
but whenever the light 
filled the classroom
it filled me with truth 


she washes prunes
for our porridge
as I take out 
the smelly bin
and think 
I’ll miss this




Oana Maria Cercel


recreate your life 
like tears of separation 
and of union, 
the dew drops 
give life and hope 
to dry ground


weathered hands 
caressing their grandson 
on the bench 
one more 
sunny day 


two sisters
chatting about joy
calm waves
touch their feet 
refreshing their past


Biswajit Mishra


crescent moon
a shape growing by turn
on the potter’s wheel


blood test
I choose
my own hand




Mark Gilbert

peeking
over the rim
of the nest
my
emptiness


in conflict
the right side of the brain
and the wrong side


recycled emotions
the metaphor is real
it has weight


Eavonka Ettinger 


stepping
through a spiderweb
the cling of dew


snow melt
the brook and I
babble on


Lou Faber

I had loved her once
when the summer’s warmth drew us
into marriage and children.
               She has grown colder
               always wanting for herself
               our love dying like the leaves.



The last ember
in the fireplace
fades slowly to ash.
I huddle under blankets
Shivering, conceding to January.
 
I touch your shoulder
and trace the curve of your spine
clinging to your nakedness.
I hold the tulip
its violet petals shine
in the early morning sun.



C.X. Turner


Spring
 
insomnia...
leaves undisturbed
by my window
catkin flowers flourishing
on a bed of clouds
 
 
Summer
 
sea green
within her eyes
a fire…
succumbing
to the depths
 
 
Autumn
 
out of time
my footsteps crunch
the tiny cobnuts
falling witness to this
grey, grey day
 
 
Winter
 
misunderstandings
and coiled complications
burn in a pyre…
ashes scatter in
the wake of mistrust


Sarah Das Gupta


Autumn leaves
multi-coloured quilt
prepare for sleep
cob-mice hibernate
frost's iron fist


Lake frozen
snow flakes scatter
wind blowing from the east
enchanted forest spellbound
Ice Queen rules


Dead world
black branches brood
misty shrouds hide the trees
talk of a lost spring
seeds start to dream


Ron Scully

neap tide
agrees to disagree always
with itself



nautilus shell
hears what I want to hear
my third ear



seagull lost
in the empty sky
climbs higher





Joana Figueiredo


the lost art of making love
solely with words
- handwritten letters 




cinema sessions
at the cemetery 
I sit and watch
the smallest picture 
your life; a tragic short film 
with bad protagonists 


Envy and all the places
it inhabits 
cohabitates
transforms 
- being a woman in a men's world 


Nitu Yumnam


musical concert 
from window to window
sparrows


empty school
all the laughter
before the bang


war and war every patch of the sky dark


Evgeny A. Khvalkov


crisp leaves underfoot,
whispers of the fading sun,
nature’s golden sigh


fog blankets the morn,
trees draped in hues of amber,
silence speaks in gold


as the world slows down,
nature’s lullaby begins,
autumn's gentle breath




Giuliana Ravaglia


magari una musica stamattina
un vagare di note
canta il tuo nome un sinuoso volteggio
ancora la musica
mi sara' rifugio e carezza


maybe some music this morning
a wandering of notes
sings your name a sinuous vault
music again
it will be my refuge and caress


è’ l’eco del tempo quella polvere rosa
che nutre le zolle d’un girotondo
tana di sogni vestiti d’arancio
nell’isola ambrata densa d’attese
polvere e sale fra luci dissolte
nel cerchio che ingabbia l’arcobaleno


that pink dust is the echo of time
that nourishes the clods of a merry-go-round
den of dreams dressed in orange
on the amber island full of expectations
dust and salt among dissolved lights
in the circle that cages the rainbow




Steve Wilkinson


Juroku rensaku


Silent storms rage inside,
my heart feels heavy, as hope subsides.




Clouds cover the morning,
gray whispers of tomorrow.




Beneath bright skies, I sink lower
shadowed by my restless mind.




Smiles hide the silent ache,
dusk swallows a restless heart.




Still waters run deeper,
echoes of pain stir within.




Tanshi Art


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Debbie Strange

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Jerome Berglund

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​Anthony Lusardi

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