'Love You More Than Anything' by Anna Freeman, illustrations by Jed Henry

- how wonderful, this lovely children's book arrives 

                                             just before Valentine's Day -

by Anna Harber Freeman, illustrations by Jed Henry - within children's books, no matter our supposed age, we feel better about 
our immediate moments - 
poetry of and illustrations from the heart:
                                      tickle, pickle, munch and crunch
                                         love you more than picnic lunch

Scribble, dribble, draw and talk.
  Love you more than 
  sidewalk chalk








again, a lovely book, a Sterling Children's Book 
ISBN 978-1-4549-0021-4 created by what has to be
lovely people

my own bookshelves have children's books, and, briefly, here are two favorites (found on either side of The Tale of Genji) -

HERSHEL and the HANUKKAH GOBLINS  by Eric Kimmel
illustrated by Trina Schart Hyman 
Hershel is a fellow I really want to meet - below, Hershel and the king of fierce goblins -

and, the loveliness of Trina Hyman's children (probably a main reason Hershel confronted and defeated unnecessary goblinish nastinesses)

                     and, on the other side of Genji's Tale -  
                     Dulac's Fairy Tale Illustrations
                     selected and edited 
                     by Jeff A Menges

plate 23, from "The Snow Queen", 
The reindeer did not dare to stop.  It ran on till it came to 
    the bush with the red berries.  There it put Gerda down, 
      and kissed her on the mouth, while big shining tears
                      trickled down its face.

see you in a moment                                             

ayaz daryl nielsen                          darylayaz@me.com

Jacobeku Haiku From The Heartland (Cottontown, Tennessee)

haiku Cottontown, Bell Buckle, Kellogg, Dumfries and all the multifarious (and loverly) poetic heartland homes. . .

Through the year's seasons
I see sunshine, rain, and snow
Just knowing---I know.

                                      Hands
                                      So calloused
                                      Hold a tiny child
                                      Small fingers
                                      Reach for the world.

an extensive number of poets, a very few of whose correspondence somehow (gratefully) seeks this desk, share their poetry just with family and, perhaps, friends, writing/creating haiku/senryu (and all sorts of poetry) as they sense and then act upon heart and spirit's creative yearning, this, without a neediness often within grasping for publication, for recognition - and, many of these good folk chose not to use computers and suchnesses. . .
                                   

much of this simply has to be among the loveliest of poetry, but, we will rarely see nor hear nor experience the vast majority (herein, for me, some sadness). . .

James B Peters, among aforementioned poets (and he isn't one who will read this post), writes from heartland Cottontown and, blessed be!  he has chosen to share with this desk (and I). . . 

The pine needles lie
Thick and brown beneath the trees. . .
Snowflakes floating down.

                                   A small stream trickles
                                   Over layers of worn stone. . .
                                   The sound of old tunes.

In the summer heat
a five year old
a garden hose

                           Just Americans
                           Those who hold the corvette dream
                           Those who build the car

A cold wind blowing
the sun rises on white-capped waves
sailboats hug the dock

                                     Everything is damp
                                     In the early morning fog
                                     Even the chickens
Just a kiss hello
a long hug to let her know
You still love her so

(best guess is Caroline and Joanna are James Peters's grand-childen)

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen                            darylayaz@me.com