Richard Wright (and) Stanley Greaves - two heroic haiku poets (re)discovered (by us)

assistant editor tama, stating "a most heroic haiku poet, mr. Richard Wright, and we need a post about him!"

"also!" insists assistant ed. frosty, "we'll include Caribbean poet Stanley Greaves!"                              

noble suggestions,

worthy assistants,

and!  

here we go. . .

The last months of African-American Richard Wright's life, writing thousands of haiku in Paris and the French countryside. . . decades ago, having read his Native Son and Black Boy while in lit. classes with my favorite (activist) professors. . .

HAIKU  The last Poems of an American Icon

Arcade Publishing             ISBN  978-1-61145-349-2

'reading through these poems," tama tells me, "i cried"

tama, you know, so did I. . .

110           I laid down my book

          A tendril of wisteria

               Encircling my leg.

                           255           The shore slips away

                                     From the melancholy ship

                                          In an autumn mist.

                499          Just one lonely road

                          Stretching into the shadows

                              Of a summer night.

         

haiku  Stanley Greaves

Peepal Tree Press            ISBN:  9781845232979

140 haiku and eight original pieces of artwork from a gentleman

whose endeavors lead from Guyana, to Barbados, to the US

"lucky us!" states frosty. . .

from #21   . . . 
             'For poets, empty pages'

      

                                           #59   . . . 
                                             'a filled glass waits'

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen

"and frosty!"  "and tama!"

                        darylayaz@gmail.com  (and/or)    darylayaz@me.com    

Richard M. Grove: "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Toti"

This poem is dedicated to Wallace Stevens for his poem 

“Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”
 
1
Among the many swaying palms                                       

The only living thing
Was the flutter of dozens of Toti

2
I was of one mind
Like a Royal Palm
In which there are thirty Toti

3
A flock of Toti whirled in the winter winds
A small part of the Cuban revolution

4
The sky and the Cuban flag
Are one.
The sky and the Cuban flag and a Toti
Are one.

5
I do not know which I long for most
The silent beauty of a clear Cuban sky
Or the cacophony of a Cuban orchestra,
Thirty Toti perched, chattering,
Or the fluttered painting of a black sky as they scatter.

6
Laundry filled the long lines
In sun-backed heat.                                                              

The shadow of Toti
Cross the wafting sheets
The joy of freedom.
Toti, shadow and laundry
An incomprehensible union.

7
O dear friends of Cuba
Can you imagine freedom
The way you see your Toti
Borderless
Flocking from tree to tree.

8
I listen and see the black flutterings
The inescapable chatter
And I know only too well
That the Toti is a measure
Of my existence.

9
And when the Toti fly out of my sight,
They are still part of my being,
My ever expanding circle.

10
At the sight of Toti
Flying in a Cuban blue morning
I cry out the ecstasy
That Cuba is in the air.

11
I bicycled hundreds of miles
Through emerald cane fields
Dripping with sweat.
Never in fear of being lost
Always with the chatter of my
Toti friends telling me I am home.

12
The outstretched arms of the mythic Ceibo tree
Are filled with the black cackles of Toti.

13
It was hot, a hot humid afternoon
There was hardly a breeze to ruffle
The frowns of the stately Royal Palms
A single, silent Toti sat,
In the outstretched limbs of the Bayam tree

Richard 'Tai' Grove 

ass't. ed's Frosty 

and Tama insist, 

"Richard's 'Toti' 

poem deserves 

a post of its own!" 

so it does

and, here it is.  Enjoy.

                   see you in a moment

                   ayaz daryl nielsen

                   darylayaz@gmail.com (and/or) darylayaz@me.com 

mary jo balistreri, carl mayfield, karen o'leary, teresinka periera, donna snow, cristina sng, t kilgore splake, and, paula yup!

poets of soon-to-exist bear creek haiku, print issue #136:

Blank Look #811  

         dim grow 

         the eyes 

         of joy

         yet nothing

         is diminished

carl mayfield  

rio rancho  new mexico

Estrangement:

Like a falling tree

That rushes to a rootless earth,

Somehow the ground

Is no longer there.

donna snow

lakeland  tennessee

Witness

As the storm comes

closer

the bent-limbed oaks

offer shelter

to fluttering finches,

yellow-slick feathers

curled into

golden balls

ornaments

of hope

in a deep-rumble sky

mary jo balistreri

genesee depot   wisconsin

phone marketers hangups             final grand prix

  encouraging old poet    

secret admirer still alive             mg top down

                                          red-line max

                                          daring white line fevers

                                          poet's mad odyssey

     t kilgore splake                   outrunning himself

                   calumet  michigan

                                                             

       gravesite

       my tears drip into

       a poem

       Arlington. . .

       

       silent cries

       for peace

       karen o'leary

       west fargo  north dakota

       summer break

       the cat's hotel

       nicer than ours

       funeral morning

       the cacophony 

       of crows

       christina sng    singapore

                               THE NETHERLANDS

Bicyclists, the Rijksmuseum, rain, the Van Gogh Museum,

canals, Anne Frank's house, Central Station, feeding

birds in Haarlem, a ginger cat outside a restaurant. . .

                               paula yup  spokane washington

MOTHER

For a mother                                      

sons and daughters

are children forever

because love

does not change with time.

Full of dreams

for their successful future

the answer each mother

has in mind for her persistence

in waiting to happen

is the infinite hope.

teresinka pereira

toledo  ohio

frosty and tama,

"such lovely poetics" whispers tama

"treats for all of them" states frosty "and catnip!"

  

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen

                              darylayaz@gmail.com (and/or) darylayaz@me.com

Alan Catlin: Hokusai's Views of Mt. Fuji

                    Hokusai's Views of Mt. Fuji

Tsunami wave,                                               

        the view everyone knows;

Mt. Fuji most of all.

Cask maker at his work

        kneels inside round circle

of wood; Mt. Fuji's snow tipped

        peak barely visible.

Indifference to primal beauty,

        a rich woman's choice.

Well beyond an empty window,

        an imposing view of Mt. Fuji.

Road warriors, merchants

        on horseback, porters,

bearers, all walking or resting on

        beaten path; beyond lean,

crooked pines: Mt. Fuji.

Boat man navigates calm waters

        on shore, workman leads

a burdened ass: wood for cook

        fires, heat, on its back;

Mt. Fuji amid a reef of clouds.

Rainbow bridge over well-

        traveled river: fishermen on

rocks near shore, trawling lines;

        Mt. Fuji and blue fade of

late afternoon.

Endeavoring to defeat roiling

       pulse of sea, a lone

fisherman casts; a flat sky

       with Mt. Fuji in it.

Dormant no more,

       the volcano inside

Mt. Fuji seethes; the red

       heart beats.

By the shore near base

       of Mt. Fuji, deep sea

fishermen fight the tides,

       what the waves embrace.

High tide flood plains

       where Shinto shrine

once stood; supplicants

       dig for clams in soft

sift of sand; Mt. Fuji

       framed by what remains.

ass't. ed. Tama tells us 
"Alan needs a post of his own for 'Hokusai' 
'cause it's worth it's weight in catnip!"
"and treats!" says Frosty

yes, and here it is
best to our friend Alan Catlin. . .


see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen

                        darylayaz@gmail.com (and/or) darylayaz@me.com

mary jo balistreri, richard bruns, normal, karen o'leary, raamesh gowri raghavan, christina sng, t kilgore splake, and! david he zhuanglang. . .

poetry from 

bear creek haiku #135,
including:                                  

i

removing the dust

from the stars -

evening rain

   

   david he zhuanglang

   gansu province   china   

the long drive home,

  Buddha laughing

  on my dashboard

   richard bruns   

   napa  california

thunder 

off the mountain -

morning prayers                           
                                                            
four candles
stay lit                   mary jo balistreri (and) karen o'leary
                           genesee park   wi (and)  west fargo  nd                                                                       

                      

         waiting                             dreams of escape

 frequent wilderness visits             lost in yooper blizzard

listening for passing ghosts            riding greyhound ghost        

    shadowy old spirits                  orizaba cafe breakfast

    quietly going again                     chatting with jack

                t kilgore splake   calumet  michigan

                            

rainy season                             cold drizzle

comfortable at home                    an afternoon curled up 

with dry paws                            with my cat

                      christina sng  singapore

"our dear friend Christina!" (ass't. ed's Tama and Frosty)

i talk to myself when i walk

i talk to the one i do not want to hear

the one who knows when i am wrong

the one who smiles when i grimace

the one who will keep walking

when i am gone

                               

                      normal   saugerties  new york

rope trick. . .                          petal-less flower

the kids reinvent                      browning in my diary                   an old swing                           a forty-year old no                                             

           raamesh gowri raghavan   maharashtra  india

and!

see you in a moment 

ayaz daryl nielsen

                          darylayaz@gmail.com (and/or)darylayaz@me.com

Ajša Ajša Džemila Zahirović haiku iz sarajeva haiku is sarajevo

ass't. ed. Frosty, insisting

"we must review an                               

excellent collection of

haiku sent to us

over a month ago!"

"two months!" states other

ass't. ed. Tama "and it's 

extra special because it's 

from Bosnia and Herzegovina!"

and, there are joyous illustrations by artist

Dževad Hozo!!"

The deserted well. . .

A leaf on a tree breaks

Its dreamy silence

                                      Two birch-trees in the sunshine

                                      Stretch out their arms. . .

                                      The artist and the poem.

Ajša, an internationally prominent (and honored) haiku poet: her poetry has a permanent home among our favorite books

"more of Ajśa's poetry!" (from bear creek's ass't. ed.'s). . .

On the mountain

The sound of the pine's growth

Disturbs the solemn silence

                                  The voices of the day and the night

                                  In a forest:

                                  The sweet scent of heaven.

               Hey, my love!

               Wake up, wake up -

               Let us revive the embers.

136 pages of haiku, with English translations, composed in the beautiful mountains of Bosnia and Herzegovina,

"another triumph of poetic word and a personal triumph of our esteemed poet Ajša Zahirović" (Dr. Ivo Šoljan)

ISBN 9958-21-363-x   Sarajevo Publishing

email:  ajsazahirovic@yahoo.com

Oh, lindens!  You remember

The lovers

Under your flowering crowns.

                                      I say, a poem!

                                      Beauty penetrates

                                      And the sun-dial starts moving.

Tama and Frosty: 'this post was just plain ol' good fun". . .

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen

                        darylayaz@gmail.com (and/or) darylayaz@me.com