our worthy poetry! places/faces for our poems. . .

chosen by bear creek haiku's assistant editors Frosty and Tama

'that's us!  guess which is Frosty, and have a poem
            published in the next issue of bear creek haiku. . .'

Shemom

a real sweetheart
of print poetry pub's, 

send poetry to

Peggy Dugan French

pdfrench@cox.net

(or) 

Shemom

2486 Montgomery Ave.

Cardiff, California

92007

Imitation Fruit Literary Journal does wonders with poetry- www.imitationfruit.com           eva@imitationfruit.com

Eva Barrows, editor  ('and she has some wonderful kitty-cats!')

here's one of ours, and how she published and enhanced it. . .

                                                        artist Chalsea Walton

poet Catfish McDaris and Craig Scott have created 

a brand new poetry publication, 

                                   22-5

                    a print zine, 3-4 times a year 

                                              now seeking your poems!

'work that opens eyes and minds. work that makes you stop; catches your breath; 
makes you see the world in a new way. strange/experimental. honest. raw. original.'

                 https://twentytwofivezine.wordpress.com

          Wild Plum - a haiku journal

wow, this online haiku and haiga poetry publication is simply

beautiful (and has been for a long time). . .

perhaps the loveliest online haiku site we have? ('what took us so

long to discover it?', muses Frosty)

ed. Gabriel Sawicki                      wildplumhaiku@gmail.com

                              at the hayfield's edge

                              calm presence from a woodland

                              scent of aging green

                                                    (Tama's haiku)

       

        The Roaring Muse  https://roaringmuse.com/

brand new print pub. from Duluth, Minnesota

         a very favorite city: our family used to visit Duluth

and watch kids race home-made go-carts (no engines)

down Duluth's steep city streets toward Lake Superior

        classic scenery, blended with classic wipeouts

        'a bit cold and windy in the winter', Tama suggests,

        "and, a beautiful city. . .   and a beautiful publication. . .
                          hart0568@d.umn.edu          

                                             

                                                        Duluth, Minnesota

The Pink Chameleon on Line

http://www.thepinkchameleon.com  accepting poetry until Oct.31,

a family-orineted small press, ed. Mrs. Dorothy Paula Frieda:

         dpfreda@juno.com      Tama: 'and a nice lady"

                      middle of the night

                      a thoughtful, radiant wife

                      what might you say now

                      years so quickly pass by

                      in this festival of us

 Episteme online journal of Bharat College of Arts and Commerce 

                          Kulagon, Badlapur, India

these worthy folk present/display the poets/poetry they accept for

publication honorably and with dignity - from their journal: 

and there's something extra special about sharing poetic space with those whose very names are poetic, ("and lovely", states Tama), such as Deepika Rani, Jumagul Suvonova, Khosiyat Rustamova

Up to three unpublished poems, short third-person bio., a passport-

sized photo (mine wasn't, they accepted it anyway) to: 

                    technicaleditor@episteme.net.in

check out their website, partially to make sure I've listed what few details there are correctly - this submission period closes Nov. 11th

                                                  http://www.episteme.net.in

The Stray Branch Literary Magazine

'Shorter poems, edgy, darker material written, reflecting the heart & human condition known as existence, includes depression, mental illness, loss, sorrow, addiction, recovery, abuse, survival, daily existence, self struggles & discovery through words. Personal, confessional poems are welcomed & embraced here, rhyming poems okay, up to 6 poems in the body of the email or an attachment, no simultaneous submissions, previously published are fine.'

                    thestraybranchlitmag@yahoo.com

                                    founder/editor Debbie Berk

               poet, artist, dear friend Rex Sexton's Heartbreak Hotel:

                        

Rex Sexton was a deep presence 

in The Stray Branch

'and how we miss him', 

state noble assistants 

Tama, how many more poetry publications, print and online,
do we want ('need', says Frosty)
to share with our friends?

'fifteen' -
heavens, not even to 

bear creek haiku, nor Whispers in the Wind,  Kind of a Hurricane
or Cheap Seats or the Romanian Pub. EgoPHobia

'Frosty', asks Tama, 'what do we know about Romania?'

'it's where the word romance comes from', Frosty's reply

umm, noble assistants, let's save the rest for
the post we'll create in a few days
                             it's time for treats!
                                                     (chorus of meows)

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen

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

poets, their poems: George Held, David Sermersheim, Christina Sng, Mary Jo Balistreri, Joanna Weston, Karen O'Leary, Robert O'Rourke, Judith Partin-Nielsen, and! Bijoy Kumer Dubey!

Frosty and Tama, choosing favorite poems from the depths 

of bear creek haiku's in-between issues home (a size eleven shoebox) "someone's feet seem to be growing" states Frosty 

"and it isn't Judith's" says Tama. . . 

   

enough, already, 
assistant editors-

to the poetry!                                                                     

  

    Name Calling

    Folks who say Trump is like “Hitler”                                                    

    Think he’s a rabblerousing belittler;

    The Big Lie he’s mastered,

    Like Goebbels, that bastard,

    To make our Brown Shirts feel bitterer.

            George Held        New York   New York

"wow, good friend George 

doesn't mince words" says Frosty

"well, I don't know a single kitty-

cat who's going to vote for Chump,

and, Frosty, how come you didn't

run for president this year?"

"as you well know, Tama, the

editor of bear creek haiku

needs all the help he can get"

"too true, Frosty, too true. . ."

                       Miniatures

                       I

                       me

                       my

                       limited

                       compass

                       of

                       the pretentious

David Sermersheim    Westbrook   Connecticut

"David's poem works well with George's"

"true, Tama, true. . ."

"now, poetry from Christina Sing!",
insists Tama
Tama, her last name is Sng, even if it is pronounced 'sing' -
"but she makes my heart sing!"  


curled up with books
endless winter nights               first day of summer
spent in other worlds               a raven feather
                                        at the door

                   Christina Sng   Singapore

"We need a Jo poem!"  insists Frosty
  a Jo poem?
 "Mary Jo Balistreri poem!"
     
                    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 Park  Wisconsin

assistant editor Frosty: 
"I'd like a poem written beside Shawnigan Lake!"
noble assistant, we have two



   a bench 
   on the cliff-edge
   soaring eagles



                           a bluebird
                           on the fencepost -
                           sunrise aria


  Joanna Weston  Shawnigan Lake  British Columbia

Tama:  "let's publish poems by Karen O'Leary"
(editor of Whispers in the Wind)
"and she'll feel better!"


sepia pages
peace settles 
between the wrinkles

                                gravesite
                                my tears drip
                                into a poem


      central farm time
      milking the cows before
      the cock crows

      
      Karen O'Leary  West Fargo   North Dakota





and Robert O'Rourke, mr. lone crow, loved dearly by so many, 
now knocking on heaven's door

"doesn't have to knock", states Tama, "the door is wide open"

above created by our Robert O'Rourke   Fort Collins  Colorado


                         sails furled now
                         his small boat
                         moving ever
                         so slowly toward
                         the horizon, each
                         out breath bringing
                         the face of his
                         Beloved Jesus
                         ever closer

      for Bob, from Judith Partin-Nielsen    Longmont  Colorado

 "now we're crying," from Tama and Frosty
  noble assistants, we all are

 we have one more poem, from  
 Bijoy Kumar Dubey  West Bengal   India

Om,                                                  

Om,

Hari Om,

The break of sound

And it splitting,

Om,

A U M,

A U M,

Hari Om,

Om, Om,

Hari, Hari.

The creation,

The flashing sun for the first time

And the things bathed in sunshine

And the break of sound

Doing the rounds

With the twitter and bird notes

Resounding and vibrating,

Vedic seers and hermits

Taking a bath into the river

In the morning

And chanting,

Om,

Om, Om,

Hari Om.

Tama: "we're all seers and

hermits in this river of life"

Frosty: "lovely, Tama"

Tama, Frosty, Judith, let's have our treats 
and hold Bob in our hearts
even as he enters the 
greatest embrace of all



see you in a moment


ayaz daryl nielsen

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

  

P C K Prem, and, lovely Wang Ping!

discussion between assistant editors Frosty and Tama. . .

Frosty:  "often, we receive poems we aren't sure how to approach, yet they have an intrinsic something that speaks to us". . .

Tama:  "and it seems this something, even if it isn't where we might go with our own creative endeavors, is from someone(s) who have obviously accessed and owned the creative impulse within the essence of being"

together:  "and! we've discovered a poem, Syntax, by poetess Wang Ping, that speaks directly to our 'needed' discussion":

Syntax

She walks to a table                                                

She walks to table

She is walking to a table

She walk to table now

What difference does it make

What difference it make

In Nature, no completeness

No sentence really complete thought

Language, like woman,

Looks best when free, undressed.

Since my birth, silence has been my only weapon.

Now it no longer suffices

The need to speak

leaves me restless like a hunger.

My words may not say what I mean,

but they're my only words.

the poem that finally, thankfully, initiated this discussion and

our discovery of lovely Wang Ping is by P C K Prem,

from Kangra, Himachal Pradesh, INDIA. . .

1

I wanted to write a poem                                                 

  

on bed gasping and sighing,

waiting to be put on dialysis 

anytime in gentle diagnose

in efforts to hasten mercy death 

in a dark room.

Old, sad, tired and unwanted 

I would turn out in old age

a truth is so cutting I fear.

2

I was a hungry young man once

ate everything,

a journey from rocks to flesh

a desperate hunger existed within,

drank like a fish 

as passions boiled like animals 

and I was dumb…

3

I lived like a lord 

and a king beyond history 

without a crown, 

for I was people’s man

happy, jaunty, intrepid 

not candid but appeared so

 with negative attributes

and in irregular hysterics, 

I talked in unqualified words.

4

Only I detested interpreting death

as craving for flesh and drinks 

and carnage infused verve,

and on the big chair I chewed gum 

liquor chocolates, 

and murdered petitions of tears 

in vacant eyes.

As I resolved 

and slaughtered living words 

and voices in joy embryonic.

Last, a haiku from Wang Ping. . .

      A FLASH OF THOUGHT FROM THE RIVER

      I really think I have nothing to do with humans

      though I occasionally drown a few

      to remind them of their origin.

'of flesh and spirit  poems by Wang Ping' Coffee House Press

ISBN  9 781566 890687

also! this fascinating interview 'Prayer Flags and Kinship Rivers  

A Conversation with Wang Ping'

p. 75, World Literature Today, May-August 2016.

beloved assistant editors, my deepest thanks for this post

Frosty: "time for treats?!?"

                             

yes, treats for everyone!

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen

         

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

mighty fine poets: Catfish McDaris, Carl Mayfield, Ada Aharoni, Cathy Porter, Lysa Collins, Ian Mullins, Nancy Shires, a thank you to Teresinka Pereira

assistant editor tama, insisting 'all the fine poems waiting in 
bear creek's home (that size 11 shoe box), let's honor as many 
as we can, and right now!"  
                              'treats included!' states assistant ed. frosty

yes, noble assistants, excellent suggestions. . .

and, here we go!   

                                               

                          New Orleans                                                

 Ne

Dumpstaphunk smoking

gggirlz shake their mother nature

Trombone Shorty blows.

*Catfish McDaris           west allis, wisconsin

    Blank Look #811

                               dim grow

                               the eyes

                               of joy

                               yet nothing

                               is diminished

    *Carl Mayfield          rio rancho, new mexico

             Eve's Defense

             You didn't have to accept

             That shiny juicy apple

             Did you Adam dear?

             Please remove

             Musty fig leaves

             From your memory and ears

             And remember Adam dear,

             You were created

             From mere earth,

             Whereas I was sculpted

             From a much finer substance

             Finer than poetry

             Finer than gold.

             In the rush of your

             Heart's blood

             In the throbbing of your temples

             Remember Adam dear -

             I was created

             From pure human bone

             Your strong rib-bone

             Became me - Eve

             Mother of Life.

             Always remember

             Dearest Adam

             Free, independent Eve

             Is - You. 

                              *Ada Aharoni            haifa, israel

('I chose this one', states tama - and our thanks to *teresinka

pereira for sending us Mr. Aharoni's poetry!)

          Stamped

          we sit in the quiet

          sunset falls

          your head on my shoulder

          it doesn't get better                                                     

          we hit repeat

          count blessings and stars

          the honeymoon phase

          of permanency   

                  *Cathy Porter  omaha, nebraska

                                                                 

  

                       crossing the stream

                       with measured steps -

                       water striders

                       fall in behind

 *Lysa Collins    white rock, british columbia

                       salty milk smell

                       baby's cheek

                       slaps into mine

              *Ian Mullins  liverpool, england

in bed at night

thinking haiku only

looks like sleep

                          

              *Nancy Shires  greenville, north carolina

'treats for everyone?', suggests frosty -  

yes, it's time for all of us to have our treats!  

frosty: 'plural, I like that'

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen

                                      

                            darylayaz@gmail.com