The Bamboo Hut Autumn 2019 |
|
David He Zhuanglang
a glimpse
of Dad's last smile ...
family album
train whistle...
Gran sips her tea
of loneliness
first date
her lip print
marks my collar
Bruce England
Past midnight
the cockatiel still
out of its cage
All that remains
one stretch of freeway
faint whiff of skunk
Ernesto P Santiago
the white wall
‘tween our day and night
how mezmerising
a butterfly can be
on top of it
country crossing
fairly close to home
this undying love
how many sunsets
worthy of picture frames
sultry evening
we both agreed to turn
the lights down low
to check our body parts
breathing together
Roberta Beach Jacobson
the season of lemons sunshine
war yet they dance
he died too soon to be a war hero
R.A.Allen
"Meditations on Incarceration"
Cellmate
I might kill him if
he don't kill me first; looks like
we're friends for life.
Letter
She wrote: Your kid cried
for you on Christmas morning.
Your guilt brings your tears.
The Hole
Claustrophobia.
Exercise to exhaustion.
Dreams are your escape.
Kevin Jones
Roofing
A leaking roof can be mostly good.
My life is mostly good.
Would someone please hand me that hammer?
Fortune
The fortune cookie told me
opportunity is just around the corner.
As I paid my bill I thought,
damn this spherical world.
Fallen Leaf
A willow in black ink. Simple.
Your father makes you cry. Simple.
You're asleep on the couch,
curled like a fallen leaf.
Reverse Psychology
Well I don’t love you
any more
than you don’t love me
anymore.
Dinghy
My dinghy ran aground
in dense fog.
A gull’s screeching laughter
led me back to moonlight.
Louise Hopewell
bare elm
a child’s red beanie
trampled in mud
dead coral
the doctor says
it’s lung cancer
first kiss
the aftertaste
of chocolate
Lovers’ Bay
the tangling and untangling
of seaweed
the singing of
a prayer bowl
sea breeze
Dave Read
a slow afternoon
my mind starts
to drift
with the traffic
passing outside
along with
the pizza wedged
in his mouth
the end of
our conversation
picking
my kid up from
the gym…
his backpack
stuffed with dreams
returning to work
I peek out
the window
the sky fills
my mindset with clouds
slipping in
at 3 a.m.
the moon
and I
greet Dad
Chen-Ou Liu
her wild self
trapped in a diary
a thornless rose
red lingerie
on the clothesline
sultry night
the cry
of an unknown bird ...
cliff edge in mist
wind surge
an old man tap-tap-tapping
through gravestones
the croaking
of a lone raven ...
I lean
to the dark
inside myself
Marilyn Humbert and Kate Brown
A Swagman’s Life
outback
this clear winter night
stars gleam
with knowing eyes
waiting for frost-fall
speech plumes
burst from her face
blushing cold…
each breath scattering
the chills of skyward prayers
walking beside
the cloister’s high wall
a choir of nuns
brings peace and calm
to my daily busyness
in the darkness
dotted by halogens
a stray
struts along the middle
of his own catwalk
on the road
or following train-lines
a swaggie’s life …
new opportunities
and encounters
note – a swaggie or swagman is Australian slang for a drifter
Pasquale Asprea
evening calm
but yet
reflectors along the road
on the radio a reggae rhythm
tanned girl
the scent of the four o'clock flowers
the old port city -
expired cologne of the parish priest
Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo
round of cards
all still to begin
under the stars
long and brief the night
and the parting yet here
going back
the summer a promise
without memory
light was I once
and I flew beside you
Life's shrinking
Bit by bit we return
in an old child’s body
Yet the heart still demands
to beat
at the rhythm of blood
The soul is thirsty
of impetuous joy
And in disenchantment
one gets lost
like in a sea
Kumarendra Mallick
morning breeze...
where is its
destination?
herbal tea...
a new leaf on the creeper
in my heart
sound of music...
the silence
between the notes
Ibrahim Clouds
symposium
a stream goes down
the window
each crumb
lifting to the sky
deep clouds
setting things aright
this summer dinner
no word from you still
Michael H Lester
Remembering the Chaffinch
the moon
Pluto, and Saturn
are aligned tonight
but the sky is overcast
and I can’t see anything
the sycamore
blocks the view across the street
but not long ago
a chaffinch flew down
landing at my feet
the moon
has its way with the heart
but never
has the moon stopped a heart
the way a chaffinch could
the experience
may never repeat itself
but it lingers
in my mind’s eye as bright
as any harvest moon
dear chaffinch
if you can read this
I long for you
to come again one day
and land at my feet
Goran Gatalica
fallen gingko leaf --
a hundred miles
of my thoughts
a sign of a war --
crimson leaves swirl
into the drain
cicada corpse --
the memory of those
wasted months
an’ya
after the dunes
our shoes are eco-rich
with memories
we pour into an old
apothecary bottle
with waning light
ocean rain clouds blend
into nightfall
and the morning begets
another whale-gray day
oh falling star
how fortunate tonight
you pinpoint me
in this whole universe
full of other people
a sea mist clears
cobwebs from my eyes
this solo morn
I allot alone time
for creatures of the deep
when shines your light
in the depth of darkness
never before
have I felt so knowing
to the ways of a moth
Ben Moeller-Gaa
evening breeze
dandelion seeds join me
for dinner
shading the shade tree thunderhead
twilight
backyard bushes blend
into one
beyond the darkness
of the thunderhead
another thunderhead
morning sun
the silence before
cicadas
Joy McCall
listening to the stream bubbling by
the owls calling high in the trees
evensong from the ancient church
my friend reading poems
a new bird in the garden
small and brown and black-headed
a reed bunting from the marshes
I dream of cattails and rushes
so I be rowan, you be ash
bending in the northern wind
life and bravery long be ours
green plains, ruined towers
is there silence anywhere?
the breeze rustles the curling leaves
the rain splashes on the brickweave
my mind keeps on talking
the old granny rocks and sews
making dreams out of sunflowers
lilac, rose, lavender, sweet pea
lupines and wild blue sage
I hide in thickets and brambles
in the dark shadow of hedges
muttering with bright-eyed mice
stay safe small ones, sleep safe
Hemapriya Chellappan
waiting room
we sit together
facing away
scorching sun
even the mannequin
wears coolers
dusting off
grandmother's chair . . .
memories
Scott Wiggerman
all-night winds
rattle rooftop pipes
that nagging snub
binge-watching
a season of clouds
all afternoon
coffin maker
lines buried in each
stroke of wood
dreaming these pages lead anywhere
howling coyote
I leave for another
root canal
Bryan Rickert
midnight hour
a lover’s whisper
to someone else
dry heat
the little white husks
of pill bugs
June wedding
after the reception
silence
of the firefly’s
flicker dance
another round
of bombing
sunset glow
sets the distant
tree line aflame
blossom season
in the rubble
something sprouts
we gather what remains
and start anew
Jason Gould
ripples on the pond
prevent the sky from knowing
its own true nature
yet the wind cannot fathom
how far down the waters go
modeling success
the fishermen take notice
of the cormorant:
he is never in a rush;
takes a breath when he needs to
carefree children play
in late-afternoon sunlight
apple blossom wind --
storm clouds are gathering but
no one will mind if it rains
when i lift a stone
i feel sorry for the bugs
whose home i've disturbed
but stones need to be lifted
if progress is to be made
finally the oaks
begin to loosen their grip
on what used to be --
what life lessons might we glean
from red autumn's farewell kiss?
Marietta McGregor
spring’s return
each prunus mume
fully pink
indulging
my inner cat
bay window
in my eighth decade
blooming for the first time
queen-of-the-night
my daughter’s eyes
her daughter’s too
first birthday
the swell full
of salmon and seals
hunter’s moon
John McManus
garden in bloom
I breathe in the smell
of a new book
searing heat
a bucket of crabs
catches my eye
still warm
inside my pocket
the stolen cookie
day’s end
a couple of anglers
compare eels
shouting match
a crow on the fence
joins in
Joe McKeon
missing letter
a neon sign buzzes
in the rain
late autumn
my teacup
leafless
leftovers
the warmth of her hands
as we give thanks
derby day
all but one
in the stable
wisps of snow
at the end of the pier
a child's rod
Taofeek Ayeyemi
lily . . .
beside it
a lily
meteor shower . . .
the clash of hurrying
fireflies
crumbs of dry cattail
around a wild cat's tail --
summer solstice
Ashoka Weerakkody
how you feel
I asked caged parakeet -
inbox me!
eating with you
I still learn things anew
chopsticks
souvenirs of Nikko
red lantern and wind chimes
her bus ticket too
Lucy Whitehead
a spider sleeping
in the curl of a leaf
sweltering heat
shimmering summer day
a blue bottle settles
on a shattered snail
after the rain shower
the cat sniffs
every leaf
pink thrift trembling
the rain-soaked stone –
rush of the sea
after the thunderstorm
the beauty
of fallen blossoms
Zoran Antonijevic
Loner
A loner sits in the heart of a city,
his eyes are snarling,
he turns the streets into meadows,
people in straw,
himself in flames.
The language of silence
I'm going to the cemetery
to talk
with those who have
said all
that they could say.
Man-oak
This morning
the roots
breathe in me.
In my mouth
the owl fell asleep
Pravat Kumar Padhy
abandoned--
the sun still shines
over the monument
clouds in hurry--
the kids enjoy
the shifting moon
tea flowers--
plucking warmth
of your memories
space rocks--
the farmers harvest
celestial science
a noble thought the last page of the book
Debbie Strange
forest bathing
I immerse myself
in your light
dew point
fountain grass bends
to the earth
calm lake
otters slip between
starbeams
pinnacles
the cup of valley
fills with fog
a grebe's nest
the rise and fall
of our paddles
Christina Chin
dim light on the patio, nightingale song
blackout curtains the moon peeps through a gap
her speed carves
a mountain slope
skiing
winter fountain
the whir of breakfast
espresso
new year day
the magpie repeats
last year's song
Willie R. Bongcaron
cat howls
the moon provides
a roof
the whistle
of an old street thug
summer night
bed of roses
the bonding of a mother
and her child
gentle waves...
the moon
and I
rainy evening
August finds me
at a street cafe
Tiffany Shaw Diaz
prelude
in D major
the sun’s slow ascent
free jazz
all at once
birdsong
syncopation
the wind
before the storm
coda
breathing in
day’s fall
Paul Callus & Karen O'Leary
rising mist-
stream slips through
silence
the sub surfaces
in a secure port
gateway…
getting my masters
for tomorrow
with patience I water
the little olive tree
Paul Callus
seagulls
bobbing on the waves -
fluctuating thoughts
Karen O'Leary
peeling onions--
tears open a layer
of my grief
Eva Joan
believe
even if i know
that love is fragile
and fairy tales
are only fairy tales ...
i want to believe in
on his finger
the golden wedding band
of someone else
free fall
on white clouds i was floating ... felt safe
i believed to be stronger than life
without you i'm falling
like a puppet without its strings
too free ... too fragile
Keith Nunes
and then suddenly
despite the sun
he was cold
she’d always said he was cold
You build a town
You build a jail
In expectation
In readiness
Not everyone does what they’re told
I’m altered
The reflection doesn’t reflect it
Come see from behind
These eyes
You’ll see
There is no focus
Nadejda Kostadinova
The butterflies
hovering around you
the bees
covered up in your dust
tender flower
A cuckoo
it is too late
to go back
it is too dark
to continue
Only a few hours
between us
mixing up our
directions
Mike Gallagher
the island's people
its windswept crops
dragged east
season’s greetings
the king sends plum pudding
to the trenches
silent shuffling
bare feet on the famine way
to the poorhouse
David Jibson (4 sijo)
For many weeks, I have been looking
forward to this day,
The Siberian iris have bloomed,
their throats a heavenly blue,
but like every good thing they will fade
and wither too soon.
In the sunny front garden
I have raised up a new bed
with planks of rough cedar
and a special mix for growing.
The lavender are so happy now
that they raise me up too.
It is the time of year
that salmon come into the river
and the overnight temperatures
have begun to fall.
If the first frost were a bell,
you could hear it ring in the distance.
At the bus stop a girl with a hijab
shivers against the cold.
Together in silence, we wait
on this dark winter morning,
occasional snowflakes
catching in her long eyelashes.
Steve Wilkinson ( 5 ju roku )
tunes in a minor key -
the sadness
of an autumn wind
a handful of poems
in an old notebook -
what else would I leave you?
scudding clouds
above the hills
the pain of grief
that comes and goes
I inhale summer
exhale autumn -
how quickly
the seasons change
present in the moment -
above the traffic
a church bell
ringing
John Tustin
DEAD IN THE YELLOW
Dead in the yellow
Street with the sun in my eyes
Noticed by no one
I AM JUST SCRAPS OF
I am just scraps of
Pieces of to go fluttering
Until they reach you
LOOKING FORWARD TO
Looking forward to
The death of night. Dreading the
Rise of another sun.
SOMEONE’S KILLED AND THEN
Someone’s killed and then
The people rise up and then
No one cares again
a glimpse
of Dad's last smile ...
family album
train whistle...
Gran sips her tea
of loneliness
first date
her lip print
marks my collar
Bruce England
Past midnight
the cockatiel still
out of its cage
All that remains
one stretch of freeway
faint whiff of skunk
Ernesto P Santiago
the white wall
‘tween our day and night
how mezmerising
a butterfly can be
on top of it
country crossing
fairly close to home
this undying love
how many sunsets
worthy of picture frames
sultry evening
we both agreed to turn
the lights down low
to check our body parts
breathing together
Roberta Beach Jacobson
the season of lemons sunshine
war yet they dance
he died too soon to be a war hero
R.A.Allen
"Meditations on Incarceration"
Cellmate
I might kill him if
he don't kill me first; looks like
we're friends for life.
Letter
She wrote: Your kid cried
for you on Christmas morning.
Your guilt brings your tears.
The Hole
Claustrophobia.
Exercise to exhaustion.
Dreams are your escape.
Kevin Jones
Roofing
A leaking roof can be mostly good.
My life is mostly good.
Would someone please hand me that hammer?
Fortune
The fortune cookie told me
opportunity is just around the corner.
As I paid my bill I thought,
damn this spherical world.
Fallen Leaf
A willow in black ink. Simple.
Your father makes you cry. Simple.
You're asleep on the couch,
curled like a fallen leaf.
Reverse Psychology
Well I don’t love you
any more
than you don’t love me
anymore.
Dinghy
My dinghy ran aground
in dense fog.
A gull’s screeching laughter
led me back to moonlight.
Louise Hopewell
bare elm
a child’s red beanie
trampled in mud
dead coral
the doctor says
it’s lung cancer
first kiss
the aftertaste
of chocolate
Lovers’ Bay
the tangling and untangling
of seaweed
the singing of
a prayer bowl
sea breeze
Dave Read
a slow afternoon
my mind starts
to drift
with the traffic
passing outside
along with
the pizza wedged
in his mouth
the end of
our conversation
picking
my kid up from
the gym…
his backpack
stuffed with dreams
returning to work
I peek out
the window
the sky fills
my mindset with clouds
slipping in
at 3 a.m.
the moon
and I
greet Dad
Chen-Ou Liu
her wild self
trapped in a diary
a thornless rose
red lingerie
on the clothesline
sultry night
the cry
of an unknown bird ...
cliff edge in mist
wind surge
an old man tap-tap-tapping
through gravestones
the croaking
of a lone raven ...
I lean
to the dark
inside myself
Marilyn Humbert and Kate Brown
A Swagman’s Life
outback
this clear winter night
stars gleam
with knowing eyes
waiting for frost-fall
speech plumes
burst from her face
blushing cold…
each breath scattering
the chills of skyward prayers
walking beside
the cloister’s high wall
a choir of nuns
brings peace and calm
to my daily busyness
in the darkness
dotted by halogens
a stray
struts along the middle
of his own catwalk
on the road
or following train-lines
a swaggie’s life …
new opportunities
and encounters
note – a swaggie or swagman is Australian slang for a drifter
Pasquale Asprea
evening calm
but yet
reflectors along the road
on the radio a reggae rhythm
tanned girl
the scent of the four o'clock flowers
the old port city -
expired cologne of the parish priest
Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo
round of cards
all still to begin
under the stars
long and brief the night
and the parting yet here
going back
the summer a promise
without memory
light was I once
and I flew beside you
Life's shrinking
Bit by bit we return
in an old child’s body
Yet the heart still demands
to beat
at the rhythm of blood
The soul is thirsty
of impetuous joy
And in disenchantment
one gets lost
like in a sea
Kumarendra Mallick
morning breeze...
where is its
destination?
herbal tea...
a new leaf on the creeper
in my heart
sound of music...
the silence
between the notes
Ibrahim Clouds
symposium
a stream goes down
the window
each crumb
lifting to the sky
deep clouds
setting things aright
this summer dinner
no word from you still
Michael H Lester
Remembering the Chaffinch
the moon
Pluto, and Saturn
are aligned tonight
but the sky is overcast
and I can’t see anything
the sycamore
blocks the view across the street
but not long ago
a chaffinch flew down
landing at my feet
the moon
has its way with the heart
but never
has the moon stopped a heart
the way a chaffinch could
the experience
may never repeat itself
but it lingers
in my mind’s eye as bright
as any harvest moon
dear chaffinch
if you can read this
I long for you
to come again one day
and land at my feet
Goran Gatalica
fallen gingko leaf --
a hundred miles
of my thoughts
a sign of a war --
crimson leaves swirl
into the drain
cicada corpse --
the memory of those
wasted months
an’ya
after the dunes
our shoes are eco-rich
with memories
we pour into an old
apothecary bottle
with waning light
ocean rain clouds blend
into nightfall
and the morning begets
another whale-gray day
oh falling star
how fortunate tonight
you pinpoint me
in this whole universe
full of other people
a sea mist clears
cobwebs from my eyes
this solo morn
I allot alone time
for creatures of the deep
when shines your light
in the depth of darkness
never before
have I felt so knowing
to the ways of a moth
Ben Moeller-Gaa
evening breeze
dandelion seeds join me
for dinner
shading the shade tree thunderhead
twilight
backyard bushes blend
into one
beyond the darkness
of the thunderhead
another thunderhead
morning sun
the silence before
cicadas
Joy McCall
listening to the stream bubbling by
the owls calling high in the trees
evensong from the ancient church
my friend reading poems
a new bird in the garden
small and brown and black-headed
a reed bunting from the marshes
I dream of cattails and rushes
so I be rowan, you be ash
bending in the northern wind
life and bravery long be ours
green plains, ruined towers
is there silence anywhere?
the breeze rustles the curling leaves
the rain splashes on the brickweave
my mind keeps on talking
the old granny rocks and sews
making dreams out of sunflowers
lilac, rose, lavender, sweet pea
lupines and wild blue sage
I hide in thickets and brambles
in the dark shadow of hedges
muttering with bright-eyed mice
stay safe small ones, sleep safe
Hemapriya Chellappan
waiting room
we sit together
facing away
scorching sun
even the mannequin
wears coolers
dusting off
grandmother's chair . . .
memories
Scott Wiggerman
all-night winds
rattle rooftop pipes
that nagging snub
binge-watching
a season of clouds
all afternoon
coffin maker
lines buried in each
stroke of wood
dreaming these pages lead anywhere
howling coyote
I leave for another
root canal
Bryan Rickert
midnight hour
a lover’s whisper
to someone else
dry heat
the little white husks
of pill bugs
June wedding
after the reception
silence
of the firefly’s
flicker dance
another round
of bombing
sunset glow
sets the distant
tree line aflame
blossom season
in the rubble
something sprouts
we gather what remains
and start anew
Jason Gould
ripples on the pond
prevent the sky from knowing
its own true nature
yet the wind cannot fathom
how far down the waters go
modeling success
the fishermen take notice
of the cormorant:
he is never in a rush;
takes a breath when he needs to
carefree children play
in late-afternoon sunlight
apple blossom wind --
storm clouds are gathering but
no one will mind if it rains
when i lift a stone
i feel sorry for the bugs
whose home i've disturbed
but stones need to be lifted
if progress is to be made
finally the oaks
begin to loosen their grip
on what used to be --
what life lessons might we glean
from red autumn's farewell kiss?
Marietta McGregor
spring’s return
each prunus mume
fully pink
indulging
my inner cat
bay window
in my eighth decade
blooming for the first time
queen-of-the-night
my daughter’s eyes
her daughter’s too
first birthday
the swell full
of salmon and seals
hunter’s moon
John McManus
garden in bloom
I breathe in the smell
of a new book
searing heat
a bucket of crabs
catches my eye
still warm
inside my pocket
the stolen cookie
day’s end
a couple of anglers
compare eels
shouting match
a crow on the fence
joins in
Joe McKeon
missing letter
a neon sign buzzes
in the rain
late autumn
my teacup
leafless
leftovers
the warmth of her hands
as we give thanks
derby day
all but one
in the stable
wisps of snow
at the end of the pier
a child's rod
Taofeek Ayeyemi
lily . . .
beside it
a lily
meteor shower . . .
the clash of hurrying
fireflies
crumbs of dry cattail
around a wild cat's tail --
summer solstice
Ashoka Weerakkody
how you feel
I asked caged parakeet -
inbox me!
eating with you
I still learn things anew
chopsticks
souvenirs of Nikko
red lantern and wind chimes
her bus ticket too
Lucy Whitehead
a spider sleeping
in the curl of a leaf
sweltering heat
shimmering summer day
a blue bottle settles
on a shattered snail
after the rain shower
the cat sniffs
every leaf
pink thrift trembling
the rain-soaked stone –
rush of the sea
after the thunderstorm
the beauty
of fallen blossoms
Zoran Antonijevic
Loner
A loner sits in the heart of a city,
his eyes are snarling,
he turns the streets into meadows,
people in straw,
himself in flames.
The language of silence
I'm going to the cemetery
to talk
with those who have
said all
that they could say.
Man-oak
This morning
the roots
breathe in me.
In my mouth
the owl fell asleep
Pravat Kumar Padhy
abandoned--
the sun still shines
over the monument
clouds in hurry--
the kids enjoy
the shifting moon
tea flowers--
plucking warmth
of your memories
space rocks--
the farmers harvest
celestial science
a noble thought the last page of the book
Debbie Strange
forest bathing
I immerse myself
in your light
dew point
fountain grass bends
to the earth
calm lake
otters slip between
starbeams
pinnacles
the cup of valley
fills with fog
a grebe's nest
the rise and fall
of our paddles
Christina Chin
dim light on the patio, nightingale song
blackout curtains the moon peeps through a gap
her speed carves
a mountain slope
skiing
winter fountain
the whir of breakfast
espresso
new year day
the magpie repeats
last year's song
Willie R. Bongcaron
cat howls
the moon provides
a roof
the whistle
of an old street thug
summer night
bed of roses
the bonding of a mother
and her child
gentle waves...
the moon
and I
rainy evening
August finds me
at a street cafe
Tiffany Shaw Diaz
prelude
in D major
the sun’s slow ascent
free jazz
all at once
birdsong
syncopation
the wind
before the storm
coda
breathing in
day’s fall
Paul Callus & Karen O'Leary
rising mist-
stream slips through
silence
the sub surfaces
in a secure port
gateway…
getting my masters
for tomorrow
with patience I water
the little olive tree
Paul Callus
seagulls
bobbing on the waves -
fluctuating thoughts
Karen O'Leary
peeling onions--
tears open a layer
of my grief
Eva Joan
believe
even if i know
that love is fragile
and fairy tales
are only fairy tales ...
i want to believe in
on his finger
the golden wedding band
of someone else
free fall
on white clouds i was floating ... felt safe
i believed to be stronger than life
without you i'm falling
like a puppet without its strings
too free ... too fragile
Keith Nunes
and then suddenly
despite the sun
he was cold
she’d always said he was cold
You build a town
You build a jail
In expectation
In readiness
Not everyone does what they’re told
I’m altered
The reflection doesn’t reflect it
Come see from behind
These eyes
You’ll see
There is no focus
Nadejda Kostadinova
The butterflies
hovering around you
the bees
covered up in your dust
tender flower
A cuckoo
it is too late
to go back
it is too dark
to continue
Only a few hours
between us
mixing up our
directions
Mike Gallagher
the island's people
its windswept crops
dragged east
season’s greetings
the king sends plum pudding
to the trenches
silent shuffling
bare feet on the famine way
to the poorhouse
David Jibson (4 sijo)
For many weeks, I have been looking
forward to this day,
The Siberian iris have bloomed,
their throats a heavenly blue,
but like every good thing they will fade
and wither too soon.
In the sunny front garden
I have raised up a new bed
with planks of rough cedar
and a special mix for growing.
The lavender are so happy now
that they raise me up too.
It is the time of year
that salmon come into the river
and the overnight temperatures
have begun to fall.
If the first frost were a bell,
you could hear it ring in the distance.
At the bus stop a girl with a hijab
shivers against the cold.
Together in silence, we wait
on this dark winter morning,
occasional snowflakes
catching in her long eyelashes.
Steve Wilkinson ( 5 ju roku )
tunes in a minor key -
the sadness
of an autumn wind
a handful of poems
in an old notebook -
what else would I leave you?
scudding clouds
above the hills
the pain of grief
that comes and goes
I inhale summer
exhale autumn -
how quickly
the seasons change
present in the moment -
above the traffic
a church bell
ringing
John Tustin
DEAD IN THE YELLOW
Dead in the yellow
Street with the sun in my eyes
Noticed by no one
I AM JUST SCRAPS OF
I am just scraps of
Pieces of to go fluttering
Until they reach you
LOOKING FORWARD TO
Looking forward to
The death of night. Dreading the
Rise of another sun.
SOMEONE’S KILLED AND THEN
Someone’s killed and then
The people rise up and then
No one cares again
