Tuesday, January 31, 2017

poets of bear creek haiku #138: Annie Jenkin, Jim Kacian, Carl Mayfield, Claudia Messelodi, James B Peters, t kilgore splake, and, Chole!

tama, our very happy assistant 
editor, stating- "more loverly
poetry from soon-to-be
bear creek haiku #138, and!                        

we have yet another 
best friend forever!"  
an equally excited assistant 
editor frosty, stating-

"she's from Italy, her 
name is Chole!" 
"a loverly name, and,' says tama,
"here she is:"



Chole lives with Claudia Messelodi,
of Arco, Italy, 
we're delighted we can share two 
of Claudia's fine poems...

    The wind ruffles the
    sparse auburn mane of autumn
    shedding tears of gold.



       Swirls of autumn leaves,
       the wind urge stirs up the hill-
       scrawls on a blank page.



from Jim Kacian, of Winchester, Virginia...

top down
the midwest 
unfolds

                     game night 
                     in the college town
                     the smell of fried food

                                                      Sunday morning
                                                      a jazz riff
                                                      in the mockingbird's call 

as always, admiration for the poetry of t kilgore splake, grey-bearded writing wonder of Calumet, Michigan. . .

lost in creative madness
    ink burning page
  elusive muse beaten
                                                      older chinese poets
                                                      living in mountains
                                                        lost in pale mist


           Messengers, from Annie Jenkin, Devon, England...

                   Messengers

                   As two embers flew over the ocean
                   they met the man in the moon,
                   who doffed his cap and sent his news
                   into silvery waters below.
                   Picked up by passing dolphins
                   it spread through ocean highways;
                   that your dreams were seen
                   by moon-lit clouds who
                   carried your love to the stars.


(a visit from a bear who lives
near us on bear creek)



and, from dear friend James B. Peters 
                                   Cottontown Tennessee


Mid-afternoon 
on new year's day,
A sense of hope
is found in the
Bluebird on the windowsill


New Year's morning breakfast,
Aromas fill the kitchen,
Cinnamon rolls in the oven,
The skillet frying bacon,
and the coffee slowly brewing.


Staying up till midnight
Is what she said she'd do,
But when the hour came
Sleep had kept the new year
Unknown until two hours after dawn.



        

last, a poet we're just plain fond of- Carl Mayfield, 
Rio Rancho, New Mexico...


                     somewhere nearby
                          a rooster
                       gives it another try

                                                           sycamore
                                                                  slicing 
                                                               sunlight


    Deciduous

                                 In the evening when the trees
                                 are in recovery from sunlight
                                 the color and sound of new leaves
                                 passes between worlds, more worlds
                                 than we can bear in this life.
                                 Not needing a name to find their way,
                                 the trees energy at first light
                                 with a fluttering hello, simple one:
                                 you new in town?


and that's all for now!
"Chole, I'll talk to you soon!", states tama 
"Me, too!", says frosty



see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen

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