t. kilgore splake, James B. Peters, Teresinka Pereira, Steve Ausherman, Yarrow, Ann Christine Tabaka, Greg Gregory, Nancy Shires, Patricia Carragon, and, Juanita Torrence-Thompson!

                 poet t. kilgore splake   Calumet, Michigan

         lost in cold whiteness                          movie theatre

            wind driven snow                        brief afternoon hours

          poet drunk on silence                        young wild free



   poet James B. Peters                      poet Teresinka Pereira   

   Cottonville, Tennessee                         Toledo, Ohio                       

   Christmas decorations,                       SANTA CLAUS                         

   Everyone has a tree.

   A sleigh and plastic tire                     Without dances, singing

   Further down the street.                     his HO! HO! HO!

   The weather                                    the old man

   is just now turning cold                     comes to give

   Maybe Christmas will be white.              a message of peace

   The spirit has caught                         to all mankind!

   The shoppers in the mall                     With storms

   And everywhere                               or with limpid sky

   there is more cheer.                           here he comes                         

   Better if it filled the year.                    from the firmament

                                                     with memories...

                                                     The poem 

                                                     is the gift

                    to each poet!

                                                           

     poet Steve Ausherman

           Albuquerque, New Mexico

           spilled salt
              tossed over my shoulder
           the warm comforts
                          of superstition.


     
    poet Ann Christine Tabaka
          Hockessin, Deleware
     
           wind in the trees
           leaves dance to
           a grand ballet                       

   (to you from Yarrow)                          in my window      
                                                         a moonless night
                                                       pulls down the shades



                  poet Greg Gregory
                        Antelope, California                                      

                  I have learned the right words, right
                  tone, each of the right                            
                  faces, pleasing smile.
                  I have learned them as prairie
                  grass learns to send its tendrils
                  into the sod to
                  escape prairie fires.
                  I have learned how to survive.


poet Nancy Shires
      Greenville, North Carolina

                    rainy spell

                    a population increase

                    of violets

      song of the swallowtail sung in yellow

                                    yellow flowers 

                                    cascading from a blue pot

                                    it doesn't take much

            (And it is sunrise in Colorado. . .  we fools are dancing!)


                         poet Patricia Carragon                              
                            Brooklyn, New York

            photographs                              pastoral silence
            can't always see                          inner cacophony
            the beauty of the moment              speaks


                         poet Juanita Torrence-Thompson
                               Bayside, New York

           Jewel eyes, burnt to-                Singing sienna
           Paz observing crocus. Peace.       Eyes, saucy lavender lips
           Splatter of spring rain.              Swim through lilac days.


Noble assistant editors Tama and        

Frosty, you have created another
excellent blog post of poems
from very favorite poets!

Frosty:  "Treats for everyone!"

happy mews, contented purring,
heart-felt grins and sighs
(as we eat treats and dance). . .



see you in a moment


ayaz daryl nielsen

                                                  darylayaz@gmail.com

                                       (and/or) darylayaz@me.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                (an SASE is 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!

Peggy Dugan French, Rex Sexton, Don Wentworth, Steve Ausherman, Patricia Carragon, Carl Mayfield, t. kilgore splake, Angelee Deodhar, Frosty and Tama!

                               

                               poet Peggy Dugan French

                                    Cardiff, California

              sanctuary                           construction site

              the song of this river              the chatter of daily lives

              the touch of your hand            mixed with sawdust

Peggy is editor of print publication   SHEMOM   
     peggydfrench@gmail.com          2486 Montgomery Ave.
                                            Cardiff, CA
                                            92007
                                                          send your poetry!


assistant editors Frosty and Tama, stating, "next, artwork and poetry from the friend who always made us purr..."

                             poet and artist Rex Sexton

THE KISS GOODNIGHT

Somber in the soft dusk
with sleep coming on
I think about the best
way to lay life's wonders
down. Of course, somehow
with a smile on my face. No
sour grapes. Death is everyone's
fate.
I must lay my long mirror down
The future belongs to those who
are coming. I'll greet them
as I can, leave them
a little something.
Grace and beauty has its way.



(Skeleton Key by Rex Sexton)



                      poet Don Wentworth   Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania


         that slow lope,                          Grand Unified Theory
       of nowhere to go,
been there, everywhere, before -               the moment
      look, see, the willow                      becomes  
          yields to you                           you

                             (above haiga by Frosty and Tama)

Paint a Tree     poet Steve Ausherman
                           Albuquerque, New Mexico


Paint a tree/ paint a thin branch

Paint shaded green/ paint the lines of my hand.

Paint a sapling/paint a girl growing up.

Paint exposed roots/ paint grandma in a rocker.

Paint a tree/ paint a thick branch.

Paint autumn leaves/ paint a wedding veil.

Paint wind-bucked pine/ paint a boy's cowlick.

Paint aspen bark/ paint a Dear John letter.

Paint a tree/ paint a thin branch.

Paint a thick trunk/ paint a Sunday dinner.

Paint acorn skin/ paint my child leaving home.

Paint leaves in the rain/ paint the doctor's office.

Paint a tree/ paint a thin branch.




    poet Patricia Carragon
                                   Brooklyn, New York

          rain forgives anger
                   when it falls with grace and hope
                            water heals the land
                                     courage replants, life renews
                                              the earth and sun in balance

  (above haiga by Tama and Frosty)


                   poet Carl Mayfield  Rio Rancho, New Mexico
                                           
        snowy fog                          along the path
            walking home                              each direction home
          through home


                  poet t. kilgore splake   Calumet, Michigan

       thelonious monk                             lost in cold whiteness

        soft jazzy touch                               wind driven snow

      world full of edges                          poet drunk on silence


     and, last, Angelee Deodhar shares a recent photo of Frosty. . .

assistant editor Frosty asks "Did you have to use this picture!?!"

Noble assistant, this picture earns all of us, especially you, and Tama, and Angelee Deodhar- extra-special treats!

"Happy mews and purrs and extra-special treats for everyone!"
from assistant editor Tama...                    

see you in a moment


ayaz daryl nielsen

                     

darylayaz@gmail.com
(and/or) darylayaz@me.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                (an SASE is 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!            

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!            

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