Saturday, August 1, 2020

Poets!... Dennis Rhodes, Rumi, Thomas Merton, t. kilgore splake, Greer Woodward, Judith Partin-Nielsen, James Babbs, Linda Fuchs, Peggy Dugan French/Dali Lama, toma rosen, John McDonald!


  poet Dennis Rhodes,
                           Naples, Florida...

        Rosa Parks                                          
        Quiet warrior
        showed us the back of the bus
        is for nobody.

    John Lewis

    Marched across a bridge--
    the right place at the right time--
    into history.

        poet Rumi...

           Love is the bridge between you
           and everything.

                   poet Thomas Merton...

                        Every moment and every event of
                        every person's life on earth makes an
                        impression in their soul.

 poet t. kilgore splake, Calumet, Michigan...

solving serious problems                alone on pine stump
 wise men build bridges               eyes completely closed
  foolish erecting walls               becoming part of nature

            reading poems to campfire             early sunday service
             emotions rising in smoke            beside brautigan creek
                to places never been             listening to water's prayers


noble assistant editor Frosty: "Extra treats for Greer Woodward!
                                                          and for our Judith!"

poet Judith Partin-Nielsen, Longmont, Colorado...

           Winter Woman

           skin of golden ash
           mystery of face
           abstracted in beauty
           loosened chignon of promise
           graceful ellipses of waist, widening to
           hips opening like
           the mouth of a river
           giving birth to the world

     poet James Babbs,                        poet Linda Fuchs, 
     Stanford, Illinois...                            Grove City, Ohio...

     missing her                                 white water surging    
     raindrops make                            over horseshoe shelf
     strange patterns                                  rainbows in the mist
     on the window    
                                                                                                    pink mist floats           
                                                  rolling river roars
       casting shadows                                  kayaks must wait
       the names of the dead
       written on the stones                   serene water
                                                   undisturbed by humankind
                                                            may I go to sea?

                        Peggy Dugan French, a Friday Poem...

poet toma rosen
Mt. Baldy Zen Center, California...                 poet John McDonald,
                                                         Edinburgh, Scotland...   
clear turquoise  the river      
that carries me on                                     quat
around the next bend to                               i the yalla gowans
my final destination--                                 an eenin's lowe
where anvil clouds build
beyond the canyon's                                    left
Bierstadt sandstone walls                             in the buttercups
to rest on shimm'ring                                  an evening's glow
   western waters...

see you in a moment...

               and, you can mail your poetry to:

                bear creek haiku
                PO Box 596
                Longmont, CO
                (SASE's are appreciated)

From other than the USA, email to and/or 

Last!  If you choose to send poetry via email from within the US,
                                    that's ok, too (again, include postal address)

Thursday, July 30, 2020

Poets!... Sari Grandstaff, Hilma Erickson, t. kilgore splake, John McDonald, P C K Prem, David Oates, Boyd Bauman, Tomas Tranströmer, Cathy Porter, Don Wentworth, Angelee and ayaz, S L Peeran, Teresinka Pereira, Dennis Rhodes...


    Noble assistant editor's Frosty and Tama, mewing, "Poetry, Mister Editor!  Kitties and people         need their poetry now, Mister Editor!". . .! 

    poet Sari Grandstaff, Saugerties, New York...

    entering the room
    flicker of recognition      flickering porch light
    the moth or the flame?     disco dancing moth
                                    just stayin' alive            

                         at the funeral
                         mom's rainbow pasta salad
                         brings us together

             poet (and my great-aunt) Hilma Erickson, dated 1900... 
                           Summer is here and Autumn is near.
                            What a beautiful time of the year.
                                 The flowers are lovely,
                                 and the birds are here.

                                 A lady bug came along,
                                     as cute as can be.
                                Invited her lady friends
                                 in for an afternoon tea.

                                   A grasshopper came,
                                   he was a little lame.
                                 And the cricket brought
                                     his favorite game.

                                    The whippoorwill 
                                     was a little late,
                                  and he sat and sang 
                                   on the garden gate.

                            poet tkilgore splake, Calumet, Michigan... 

    wilderness poem

quiet words whispering         melting spring snow

  softly through pines          stream waters  rising

                                   carrying new dreams

    poet John McDonald, Edinburgh, Scotland... 

   brennin leaves -           
   reek hoves                     burning leaves -
   claps tae the brainches       smoke rises
                                    clings to the branches

oot frae the haar intae the haar            out from the mist
hern snuves                    ...and into the mist
                                  heron glides

      poet P C K Prem, Himachal Pradesh, India... 

Grimy rain in a tributary

          to roar and cuddle

dew drops. 
                                He paints splashes

                    on face    fuzzy and wrinkly,

                                                     rainbows lit up.

poet Boyd Bauman, Overland Park, Kansas...  
        From the Furrows                       Luck

        After the tractors,                       Green clover I pick
        frogs from rice paddy furrows       displays three petals proudly
        manufacture joy.                        Still my lucky day.

                   poet Tomas Tranströmer...

        Midnight Turning Point

        The wood ant watches silently, looks into
        nothing.  And nothing's heard but drips from dim
        leafage and the night's murmuring deep in
                         summer's canyon.

        The spruce stands like the hand of a clock,
        spiked.  The ant glows in the hill's shadow.
        Bird cry!  And at last.  The cloud-packs slowly
                          begin to roll.

               poet Cathy Porter, Omaha, Nebraska...

     A warm breeze
     Through the window             the tree on our car
     Makes the bills                   a nudge towards liquor
     Disappear                         or prayer
                                         maybe both

           One rose
           On the hood of the car             The caterpillar
           Thorns missing                      On the sidewalk
           But felt                               In no hurry
                                                   Despite the rain

     poet Don Wentworth, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania...

      hanging low          
      so beautiful                       hiding in everything plain sight
       the willow                      
        with the                   the big picture --            
         stream                   sunset, butterfly

                      Angelee Deodhar, and, ayaz daryl nielsen...

poet S L Peeran, Bengaluru, India...

    New found peace

    The famed astro-prediction 
    Of WW-3 turned out
    To be Covid virus-19
    For universal lock down.

    For deep introspection 
    To clean the environment 
    To unite the world
    For regeneration 

    For re-evaluation 
    To charter a new course
    To open new chapters 

    In the destiny of Nations.

   poet Teresinka Pereira,
                Ottawa Hills, Ohio...

Where is love
when there is so much solitude 
in the way?

Where is the sun
when the night is arriving early
during the morning's seeding?

Where is the smile
when poetry becomes harsh,
listening to hatred, at the eve
of this underserving war?

                      poet Dennis Rhodes, Naples, Florida...

                      Craft   Honesty   Tenacity:
                      those are what makes this writer tick.

                                 Life is hardball.  Go
                                 out and strive for the singles.
                                 The home runs will come.

see you in a moment...

               and, you can mail your poetry to:

                bear creek haiku
                PO Box 596
                Longmont, CO
                (SASE's are appreciated)

From other than the USA, email to and/or 

Last!  If you choose to send poetry via email from within the US,
                                    that's ok, too (again, include postal address)

Tuesday, July 21, 2020

poets! Robert Hirschfeld, William Wordsworth, Dennis Rhodes, Angelee Deodhar, t kilgore splake, Peggy Dugan French, John McDonald, Patricia Carragon, Charles Bukowski, Judith Partin-Nielsen, r soos, and, Tomas Tranströmer...



                 for Maura

                 Your small hand

                  in my hand

                  keeps looking for my hand

             poet William Wordsworth...

    a grandeur in the beating of the heart...

                     the types of symbols of eternity...

     poet Dennis Rhodes, Naples, Florida...

Got the Covid blues           Bunny sits so still
haven't hugged anybody    it becomes a monument
for a century.                   to nature, and self.

                   Epigram for Lucy

     She had the scars to prove that she had loved.
     She had the sense to hide them well away.
     She died with nearly nothing left to prove
     and more important, nothing left to say.
            poet Angelee Deodhar...

     old bird bath
     now full of ivy            baby squirrels
     the bird song missed     foun
                                  in the missing socks

                  sudden blackout
                  so many fireflies
                  in the garden

            Kitty Kali... "we loves you, Angelee..."

    poet t kilgore splake, Calumet, Michigan...

wilderness silence
like empty church               zen wisdom
deep holy feeling          thinking and feeling
                              becoming heart mind
warm floating embryo
infant's unborn dreams     wilderness education
life waiting to fly           learning language of
                             animals  birds  butterflies

           from poet/editor


         cluds stourin -     clouds racing -
         the auld collie     the old sheepdog    
         bowfin               barking

                            aises                          ashes
                            on ma broo                  on my forehead
                            the priest's snell thoum     the priest's cold thumb

   noble assistant editor Tama, mewing sweetly,
"Kitties, Mister Editor!  We need more kitty poems!        Include favorite poet 'That Brooklyn Girl!"...

yes!  poet

eyes of the cat witch
hypnotize her devotees           at midnight
cuteness wins more treats       feline karaoke
                                     gets hotter
  Kerouac kitty
  poems unravel        (for Tama)
  like toilet paper      the goddess meows
                                   Kishigawa's good fortune
                                           calico's blessing


a reader                                                 a sensible fellow

my cat shit in my archives                             when I fart                 
he climbed into my
orange box                                               could care less
and he shit on my poems
saved for the university archives.

that one-eared fat black critic         I don't like poetry as a command, 
he signed me off.                         a search.  it must come to you,
                                             like a hungry cat at the door.


   things unfold                what is the cost
   as they do                    of this lost land
   and even in that             more than blood,
   there is                        history or beauty
   a special beauty              or anyone's broken



fallen music swells
on the dance floor of my dreams
I smile and sing loud

                             during the music

                       I breathe between thoughts
                     invest them deep in my blood
                             exhale their spirit


are the clay and paint
which shape the music of mind
on language canvas


                                    if you listen close
                             you will hear everybody
                                      talking in haiku

                        poet tomas tranströmer...

   Encroaching shadows. . .
   We are astray in the woods        Something has happened.
   in the mushroom clan.             The moon filled the room with light.
                                           God knew about it.

see you in a moment...

               and, you can mail your poetry to:

                bear creek haiku
                PO Box 596
                Longmont, CO
                (SASE's are appreciated)

From other than the USA, email to and/or 

Last!  If you choose to send poetry via email from within the US,
                                    that's ok, too (again, include postal address)