Friday, December 8, 2017

kitty purrs: poets Joanna M. Weston, Juanita Torrence-Thompson, Paula Yup, t. kilgore splake, James B. Peters, Carl Mayfield, Patricia Carragon, Judy Katz-Levine, and, Bijoy Kant Dubey!


                          poet Joanna M. Weston
                     Shawnigan Lake, British Columbia                              

   the newsboy
   cast in bronze
   still delivering

                                                the mailman
                                                stationary
                                                in bronze
      the prison becomes
              a famous library -
              books on time
                                                   wild roses
                                                   in sunlight -
                                                   love
      forget-me-nots
      by the stream -
      our faded photo



                   poet Juanita Torrence-Thompson
                          Bayside, New York

               HAIKU #11  --  FLORAL ARRANGEMENT

               IKEBANA of
               Pink, blue, yellow perfumes air
               Delightful for all

               HAIKU #12 --   KOTO: THE JAPANESE HARP

               She plays the Koto
               Softly as a gentle wind
               Strokes an olive branch


     
                poet and artist Paula Yup
                Spokane, Washington

                MYSTERIES ARE ALL I CAN READ

                             here in Alaska
                exhausted with bloodshot eyes
                asthma
                assorted afflictions
                loneliness
                after a dozen years
                in a third world country
                this transition back to life
                in the States
                distracts me
                but it's ok
                life is a mystery  too


      poet t. kilgore splake   Calumet, Michigan
                
  searching wilderness shadows
                                                   breakfast with dad
   like monk circling cloister
                                              squeezing juice perking coffee
     quietly seeking wisdom 
                                                   never happier time





                                             CIGAR SMOKE
                                             Five teenaged boys
                                             In a forty-six Ford.
                                             Sitting on a back street
       poet James B. Peters           Filling the interior                    
       Cottontown, Tennessee            With cigar smoke.
                                             The most intelligent
                                             Quest for knowledge
                                             At this point
                                             Was whether
                                             Farts
                                             Would ignite.


                                                   

                    poet Carl Mayfield
                  Rio Rancho, New Mexico

          Blank Look #61
          One rogue apricot appears on the tree.
          She slices the fruit carefully, evenly.

          This is the way a thousand years
          Slips quietly through your fingers.


                                    
                           poet Patricia Carragon
                         Brooklyn, New York

                         Roller Coaster Train

                      We were approaching
                         Coney Island--Stillwell Avenue,
                         but the N train didn't stop--

                         It continued upwards on tracks
                         that rose above the station
                         until it made that sudden descent

                         and plunged into the ocean
                         where the real mermaids waited
                         over an hour to get on.


       poet Judy Katz-Levine   Norwood, Massachusetts

         Song With Strong Coffee 10.9.17 Starbuck’s

         Lilt of voices, swell-song
         The rain, October leaf
         “Tell me, tell me how to”
         Swept away sorrow, the call
         And ochre branches
         The fall of a hand, dialogue                         
         With a friend who knows
         A blind-song, just starting
         Seed-poems rise in light
         Rain, the call                 


                            
                
                       poet Bijoy Kant Dubey   
               Chandrakona Town, West Bengal, India
  
               My Silence

               My silence
               The silence of rocks and stones
               And trees

               My silence
               Mine, not yours,
               But mine, mine only

               My silence,
               My silence
               The silence of rocks and stones

               And trees,
               Trees,
               Rocks and stones

               My silence
               The silence of mine,
               Mine only, not yours

               And the world did not
               Why had I been silent,
               Silent?



assistant editor Frosty:  "Tama,
we've purred so much
within these poems-
extra treats are needed!"
assistant editor Tama:
"Mister Editor, it's up to you!"

Noble assistants, you've presented 
yet another lovely poetry collection- extra treats for all of us!

Frosty: "Especially Judith!"                       



see you in a moment


ayaz daryl nielsen

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


note:  poetry to be considered for print issues 
of bear creek haiku
can be sent to: bear creek haiku
                  PO Box 596
                  Longmont, CO
                  80502   
                  USA                (SASE's are appreciated)

from other than the USA, email (as above) often works best, yet! 
if you choose to send poetry via email from within the US, 
that's ok, too.

                          Best to our creative endeavors!            


Tuesday, December 5, 2017

purring poets: pl. wick, Cathy Porter, Patricia Carragon, Olimpio Coelho de Araújo (translator Teresinka Pereira), Diane Webster, Carl Mayfield, Dennis Saleh, t. kilgore splake!

                poet pl. wick   Empire, Colorado                         

                old friends are these
                dry-leather work boots
                a fatigued heel finally fails,
                it was bound to happen--
                the boot  sagging and tired
                limping noticeably now

                I'm just along
                   for the journey

                - - -

                cerulean sky
                and lemon chiffon aroma
                carry us along...

                the biker
                beginning to relax 
                asks--
                if there are such things as
                motorcycle poems


            poet Cathy Porter   Omaha, Nebraska

                        lightfoot

                        early morning rain
                        soaks our skin
                        that's what you get
                        for lovin' me
                        if you cold read my mind
                        you would know
                        I plan to leave
                        by sundown
                        ain't nothin' carefree
                        'bout this highway


poet Patricia Carragon
      Brooklyn, New York

gray leaves  gray puddles
gray chills underneath     gray cardigan
               

                 subway in motion
                         wheels sing lullabies
                                 passengers fall asleep

yellow snow
at the trunk of the tree
doggie's m.o.

             
   poet Olimpio Coelho de Araújo   São Vivente, Brasil

            WE ARE ALL ASTRONAUTS
            (Somos todos astronaultas)

            The gods know we are all astronauts.
            They test our fragile limitations,
            our shaky, insecure steps.
            The gods know how arrogant we are.
            The gods know.

   translated by Teresinka Pereira   Toledo, Ohio


       poet Diane Webster   Delta, Corlado

                                                  BEE CAVE
 A bee encapsulated
 inside a snapdragon blossom
 like soaking in bathtub water
 as scent penetrates in steamy mist. . .
 like squeezing through
 a cave tunnel to the end
 discovering never-before-seen
                  stalactites



  poet Carl Mayfield
Rio Rancho, New Mexico

Blank Look #972

                              picking up a trimmed branch
                              I notice there is a thread
                              attached
                                       trailing off into the sky
                              quickly becoming invisible

                                       when I feel the tug
                              a shudder arrives
                              without a sound
                                                calmly
                              as though being called home
                              is nothing to fret about


poet Dennis Saleh                        poet t. kilgore splake
Seaside, California                          calumet, michigan                                                              
                                             
Curb Your Voice                             modern communications

No word speaks                                short tweet messages
louder than 'silence'
especially in Januarys                  forgetting old fashioned letters
                                             
A year is gone
A year begun
Of course momentous                        tripping highway miles

"Silence"                                      sipping eight ball forties
Motto of the month
of January                                    deep in upper peninsula
             
                                                   closing on paradise


                                 
    noble assistant editors
    Frosty and Tama, yet
    another fine post!
    You have me purring!

    Frosty: "Treats?"

    Treats for everyone!
    (happy mews all around)



    see you in a moment


    ayaz daryl nielsen



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

Tuesday, November 28, 2017

'kestrel, hovering' So, too, poetry: normal, Alan Yount, t. kilgore splake, Carl Mayfield, Patricia Carragon, Jo Balistreri, Teresinka Pereira, and! Judith Partin-Nielsen. . .


Insist assistant editors 
Tama and Frosty:

"And we have all these 
fine poems hovering 
around our desk!  
Mister Editor, let's
honor as many of 
them as we can!"

Excellent suggestion,
noble assistant editors-
we'll begin right now!


poet normal
Saugerties, New York

in lasting tribute
to the residency
of humankind,
children
somewhere
still hold hands singing
on the long walk home                   
                 poet Alan Yount
                 Columbia, Missouri                                                

                 BUDDHA STATUE ON A WINDOW SHELF

                 got buddha statue 

                 from a friend.  curtains barely

                 breathe, across his head.



poet t. kilgore splake
Calumet, Michigan

searching wilderness shadows

 like monk circling cloister

   quietly seeking wisdom


                                    poet ashes scattered

                                    remote stream waters

                                    feeding rainbow souls



poet Carl Mayfield
Rio Rancho, New Mexico

Empathy with the Fragment

                                      a quiet life
                                      lives in the apple trees
                                      each leaf
                                      testifying



poet Jo Balistreri                        poet Patrician Carragon
Genesee Depot, Wisconsin              Brooklyn, New York 

on the back porch                       vapor clouds
wind rocks                               rise from my teapot
in the chair beside me                  Winter cold blues

         sitting Shiva                              pastoral silence
         in silence                                 inner cacophony
         the falling rain                          speaks





                               poet Teresinka Pereira
                               Toledo, Ohio

                               TREE

                               The tree has freedom
                               without looking
                               at the world.
                               But the sky can see it
                               in the storm,
                               and the wind
                               may disturb its peace.
                               I look at its shade,
                               at the green leaf,
                               at the sculpture
                               of its branches,
                               and I think,
                               there is the perfection
                               in existence!

                                                                       

                       poet Judith Partin-Nielsen
                       Longmont, Colorado

Blessed squirrels doing
their spiritual practice
Chewing off pieces
of the prayer flag
to build their nest

                                 wanting to go home
                                 longing toward that place
                                 now only remembered

                                 still, I see the horizon



Der Blaue Reiter (Blue Rider)

Blues, oh so blue
bluesman, Blues Brothers
Blessed Virgin - blue -
blue wave, blue
dolphin riding - blue -
blue, Stevie Ray blue
guitar and blow that sax
jazz man bluesman,
blue, blue bluer than
that cold blue night
blue moon, blue Miles
blowing that blue Bitches
Brew, Kind of Blue, blue
rain, Blue Note - blue trumpet
blowing blue, blue
and so gone, gone and
blue blown blues away.


Noble Assistant Editors, you've created a very worthy post!


and all these poets are  
among our 'most favorite'. . .
ready for some 
extra special treats?

   (obviously, we are)




see you in a moment


ayaz daryl nielsen


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