Poets of Bear Creek Haiku: Josh Medsker, O. P. Arora, Bijoy Kumar Dubey, Jules Paige, Ed Markowski, Marc Carver, Judith Partin-Nielsen and Patricia Carragon!

               poet Josh Medsker

Students yelling out, but my focus is outside.                  

Rain wet the headstone of Louis Greenberg, 

and his flowers have lost their petals,

while

tissuethin oak leaves

make a small meal for the squirrel

across the graveyard

                         ----------------------------- 

My Valentine                                     

                                                 poet O. P. Arora

                         O God

         Let the Ganges of love

         flow through my veins and arteries

         pure, pious, simple…

         Let me be the fount of love

         hundreds of sprouts

         showering love over everyone…

         Let me be immersed in love

         me be nothing but love

         spread all around the joy of eternal love…

----------------

                        Bob Dylan,                  poet Bijoy Kumar Dubey

                        Where do you                                                

                        Lie you

                        Stringing the guitar,

                        Today is Valentine's day,

                        Bob Dylan,

                        Your song

                        The song of life,

                        Your music

                        The music of life,

                        Your rhythm

                        The rhythm of life,

                        Your vibes

                        The vibes of the world?

----------------

poet Jules Paige

                    sound bite?

                    (tanka)

                    two hungry hawk work

                    together to destroy a

                    squirrel's nest; a feast?

                    not on this cold winter’s day,

                    I watched the squirrel go free

                    ©J/h

                            free*flight*fought*found  - 

                            (renga)

                            raven’ mad they said

                            hoarder, holder, mind miser;

                            how little they knew...

                            I clawed my way to the heights -

                            self guided, screamed, I and lived

                            everything can be

                            cyclical - wait for me, do -

                            I will return - glad 

                            ©J/h

                          'pencil madness'  poet Ed Markowski

poet Marc Carver

                    HEAD

                    I looked at the back of the man's head on the plane

                    his daughter kept trying to get his attention

                    but he wouldn't look up from his book

                    or whatever he was doing.

                    I stared into that fat head

                    and told him to spend some time with his daughter.

                    Straight away he started to look and talk to her.

                    If I couldn't do one thing else in my miserable life

                    at least 

                    I did that.

                    poet Judith Partin-Nielsen

                    Poetry Everywhere

                                                 for Courtney Love

                   "I wrote poetry everywhere

                    on the walls, on his shirt

                    I wrote poetry everywhere"                             

                    I couldn't stop                                        

                    at night on the sheets in our bed

                    in my sleep in my dreams

                    I wrote poetry everywhere

                    on my face the war paint

                    (stirring up all kinds of trouble)

                    I wrote poetry on the table cloth

                    in Jax's Fish House

                    a haiku surrounded by wine

                    glasses, white napkins, red brick

                    walls, green fish - tiny dots of

                    blue light hanging from the 

                    ceiling - Nick Forrester eating sushi

                    at the next table

                    I wrote poetry everywhere

                    I wrote poetry in books

                    that didn't belong to me, past due,

                    checked in, checked out,

                    on posters at the coffee 

                    house, poetry notes on golden 

                    peeling bathroom mirrors

                    surprise tanka on the

                    toilet seat

                    I wrote poetry everywhere

                    I wrote poetry on the stairs

                    seven steps to the landing

                    turn left.  Six more to your room.

                    Listening to the blues, Muddy Waters

                    wailing, sitting on the floor

                    eating dates, drinking white wine.

                    I wrote poetry everywhere.

                    You made a pass, I didn't notice

                    better to keep writing poetry

                    everywhere

                    Flat on my face, flat on my

                    ass, flat on my back

                    just keep writing 

                    poetry everywhere



poet Patricia Carragon
                                                    past the open doors

                                                  of a stalled train

                                                birdsong enters

children found in ash

can’t see or feel the sunlight

*duas blurred by war

*duas—Arabic: plural for dua, a prayer of supplication

                                                   slender branches

                                                   dress in white petals

                                                   April bouquets

sipping golden milk

turmeric sunshine

on a cold March night

                                                    frozen crocuses

                                                    inside a Brooklyn garden

                                                    March lives in the fridge

Daylight saving time

jet lag in Brooklyn

is no vacation

                                                     squinting

                                                     behind my shades

                                                     afternoon sun

   loss of flowers

   hang stolen trust

   outside my door



assistant editor Tama:                              

"Frosty, wonderful poets,
fascinating poems!"

assistant editor Frosty:
"Tama, kitties' are purring!"

Another fine post you've
created, noble assistant editors,
with dear friends (Patricia Carragon, for one), and, our beloved Judith-
extra treats for all of us!
(kitties, playing, purring...)



see you in a moment


ayaz daryl nielsen

your poetry can be mailed to: 

                        bear creek haiku

                        PO Box 596

                        Longmont, CO

                        80502   

                        USA                (an SASE is appreciated)

From other than the USA, email to darylayz@me.com (and/or)
darylayaz@gmail.com

If you choose to send poetry via email from within the US, 

that's ok, too (include postal address)

Best to all our creative endeavors!

our poets-- Deborah H.Doolittle, Teresinka Pereira, Terezinha Maria Moreira, Tseten Madison Sun, t. kilgore splake, Ann Christine Tabaka, Patricia Carragon, and, Pogo!

poet Deborah H. Doolittle

Jacksonville, 

            North Carolina

            Lady Mary Wortley Montagu  Wears a Crown of Mugwort

            Hail, pale flower that adorns the roadside

            hedges, for you are truly fortified

            against all common infirmities

            that bring grander blooms to their knees.

            Take heart in small part that you will play

            in all those ditches as I make my way

            in the world, unfurl your flags of despair,

            uncurl your tufted, leafy parts like hair

            let down at night for a lover's delight:

            I can pick no better token outright

            for a talisman to set my life aright.

      poet Teresinka Pereira
                         Toledo, Ohio

      VALENTINE

      WITH LOVE

      It is enough

      to have a heart

      that can think better

      than the mind;

      to have eyes

      that can see 

      as a mirror,

      in order to condense          

      the pride of memory,         

      hands to search              poet Terezinha Maria Moreira

      for a face to caress               Uberlándia, Brasil
      with love:
      there is the time             TIME

      which gives us                             

      heaven!                       Cruel, inexorable enemy?

                                        Good generous and even a friend?

    
                                      Cruel, it destroys illusions.
                                        Good, it softens suffering.

                                      Inexorable, it doesn't stop.
                                        Generous, it resolves resentments.

                                      Enemy, it always marks the physique.
                                         Friend, it renders men wise.

                                      In all, in this life,
                                           relativity!

      poet Tseten Madison Sun
                          Terre Haute, Indiana

under snow flurries

winter bare tree limbs

point to all beauty

                  sleet pelts the window

                  memories of an old friend

                  and still, the clouds drift

     beard damp with it
                
     a thick fog shrouds the valley

     walking with ghosts



poet t. kilgore splake   Calumet, Michigan

     overnight dusting
    crisp dry whiteness                     night alone in desert
    quiet winter solitude              watching dark rocks come alive
                                              universe belongs to you

                         don't watch feel
                     denying creative wisdom
                     poet should show not tell

                       
         poet Ann Christine Tabaka                in my window
             Hockessin, Delaware                    a moonless night
                                                        pulls down the shades

    train whistle 
    swallows the quiet                   oak tree
    like unspoken words                long shadow fingers reach out
                                            to shake my hands

                               sorrow
                               falls down
                               one drop at a time


 poet Patricia Carragon   Brooklyn, New York

                 past the open door

                 of a stalled train                50 shades of Justice

                 birdsong enters                   give Hell an upgrade

                                                 Karma is the new Trump

                                as i rotate

                                around the sun

                                i will resist

          and! poet Pogo, from the seclusion of the Okefenokee!

resting 
atop this windy outcrop                 away to the west
of timeless sentry granite--            the river carries our dreams                  
the climb  not yet
too challenging for this
solo graybeard peak-rat          well who'da guessed--  
                                      didn't know the sixties were
                                      on a möbius loop

assistant editor Tama, stating,
"We even have a favorite
poet from Brasil in this post!"

assistant editor Frosty, replying,
"And we even have a favorite
poet from Terre Haute!"

umm, assistant editors,
you have created another fine post of most special poets!  
And! It's time for our treats!
Frosty: "And be.lly rubs!"




see you in a moment            

   



ayaz daryl nielsen

your poetry can be mailed to: 

                        bear creek haiku

                        PO Box 596

                        Longmont, CO

                        80502   

                        USA                (an SASE is appreciated)

From other than the USA, email to darylayz@me.com (and/or)
darylayaz@gmail.com

If you choose to send poetry via email from within the US, 

that's ok, too (include postal address)

Best to all our creative endeavors!

our poets: Jo Balistreri, Bijoy Kumar Dubey, George Held, Patricia Carragon, Kelley Jean White, t. kilgore splake, pl. wick, and Carl Mayfield!

     poet Jo Balistreri   Genesee Depot, Wisconsin

  out of darkness

  the bright foliage

  of snow

             leaving the haiku path a harvest moon

    garden party

    abuzz

    with insects

                         along the path

                         wild gardenias

                         first father-daughter dance

                her bib

                one big cherry...

                baby takes a bite

poet Bijoy Kumar Dubey   

      Bogsharpur, Chandrakona Town, West Bengal, India

      In search of the Greater Self,

      Where have I reached,

      Where have I gone to?

      The Greater Self, the Greater Self,

      In search of the Greater Self,

      Where have I really?

                                         I want to catch, catch the fireflies,

                                         Fireflies

                                         Glowing,

                                         Glowing and glimmering

                                         With the bedazzled, bespangled

                                         Blinking light.

poet George Held
      New York, New York

Winter drought --
who will start the snow?

        The cool sanctuary                          After the hurricane,
      of a cathedral - under                        a sandpiper oblivious
         a weeping branch                            to beach erosion


poet Patricia Carragon                          poet Kelley Jean White 
 Brooklyn, New York                            Laconia, New Hampshire

squinting eyes                                   hoping for a meadow

brownstones behind a window                 I believe I'll stop mowing

optical book shelves                            my lawn

glacial sunshine                                one mandarin duck

Coney Island draped in ice                   alone
fingers feel the chill                           frozen pond 

                 

bomb cyclone                                    unseasonably hot

hits Coney Island                               day--even the butterflies 

snow cone boardwalk                           are listless

ice winds whistle                                icy clouds overhead

cold air vs. radiator                            hawk scream cuts

snow curtains on window                       my silence

    poet t. kilgore splake
      Calumet, Michigan

      overnight dusting

      crisp dry whiteness

      quiet winter solitude


             red tibetan flag                   early morning existentials

           floating on creek currents          24 hour truckstop coffee

            poet's creative bloodline           writing poems on napkins


      thelonius monk                                lost in cold whiteness

      soft jazzy touch                                wind driven snow

      world full of edges                           poet drunk on silence

                                                poet pl. wick
                                  Empire, Colorado

                                  he smiles
                                  a sad distant smile
                                  across
                                  the breakfast campfire--
                                  how 'bout some coffee
                                  before it's time to go...

                                  while I lift the tin-pot
                                  off vermillion embers
                                  a lone crow soars from
                                  high in a near-by pine--
                                  sailing
                                  away towards the west.

                                  now
                                  only echoing silence...


   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

assistant editor Tama:
"Well, Frosty, I guess there's
little more to be said..."
assistant editor Frosty:
"Yes, Tama, our
poets, they've said it all..."




see you in a moment



ayaz daryl nielsen