Wednesday, February 7, 2018

beloved poets Judith Partin-Nielsen, Diane Webster, Deborah H. Doolittle, Ann Christine Tabaka, Patricia Carragon, Rachael Z. Ikins, Teresinka Pereira, Peggy Dugan French, Kelley Jean White, Julie A. Dickson, and! Angelee Deodhar!



poet Judith Partin-Nielsen   Longmont, Colorado

                           closing the circle

                           closing the circle
                           of my life
                           diameter once as
                           vast as the horizon
                           now searching for
                           the radius of
                           that blessed path
                           leading to the
                           heart of Everything


          The Hope Of It

          Where is the beauty, the Hope
          in the horror of it, you ask.
          Underneath a hard, bitter
          casement of seed is there
          an invisible bloom, a bud
          not yet conceived —  
          a fragrance only in
          the mind’s eye.
          Are we the Hope of it? 


                             Endings #2

                             folded flag from the casket
                             pressed against my heart
                             even now feeling your arms
                             tightly around me

             poet Diane Webster   Delta, Colorado

                                             THISTLE FUZZ

   Purple thistle fuzz
   mimics frost
   this September morning.

   Seeds float away
   in the breeze
   like frost melts
   in sunshine.

                                      IN THE BEGINNING

   Like a glove, 
   that ridge fits
   inside the canyon
   while wind sifts dirt
   between cracks,
   and all is flat again.

                                            SOCCER FIELD

   Two crows land
   on the soccer goal
   and caw! caw! caw!
   as children take
   the ball
   and go home.

                                               FOG PLAYS

   On the pier fog plays
   hide and seek, slight of hand,
   now you see me, now you don't.

   It swirls a lure of double dare you
   to walk the plank confident
   the end is nowhere in sight.
                                    



      poet Deborah H. Doolittle   Jacksonville,
                                      North Carolina

      Yu Husan-chi  Rhyming with Peonies

            (Chinese, c. 843-868 CE)

      What can melt a woman's hardened heart?
      With a handful of these peonies, there's a hope.

      Rain falls upon the forest like a wild beast
      and slacks the thirst of a thousand troops.

      Mist sprinkles my garden about to bloom.
      Still the buds hold tight to their promise.

      But within my room, the gloom has fled. 
      These red petals have charmed me all over again.



        poet Ann Christine Tabaka   Hockessin, Delaware

    in a forest grove
    flute-like tones echo brightly
    sound of a wood thrush

                                     morning sunlight
                                     through open window
                                     dust motes dance gaily

    oak tree
    long shadow fingers reach out
    to shake my hand

                                        white hydrangea
                                        waving pompoms for
                                        the croquet game



        poet Patricia Carragon   Brooklyn, New York


    past the open doors
         of a stalled train
               birdsong enters

                    the mischievous cat
                    curls up on the windowsill
                    plans her next attack

                                  early morning meows
                                  outside the bedroom door
                                  cat adoption blues



          poet Rachael Z. Ikins   Baldwinsville, New York

Winter Journeys, Reading Snow

One set of tracks twines
around a second. Their thread
spools over the field.
Night hides owls' hunt.

Dawn toes snow away, packeted
pellets of mouse parts, feast. 18 geese carved from low clouds,
skid onto the pond.

Minnows arrow into leaf mast.
Birds clamber onto ice. Sun sinks
behind sky's gray satin. Winter silence.

We trudge home, hearts thrum and panting.
Voices call, pin our ears, sky choreography angles
toward sunset.

Wingbeats wash a beach of broken twig,
ripples fan, ice scrim too thin to have held their bodies,
but it did.

                                                                  

         poet Teresinka Pereira   Toledo, Ohio            

               ALPHA LIPOIC ACID

               Like a drum
               playing nervously
               calling you to march
               or awake at
               the cock's crow
               to the day's struggle
               your physical
               nutriment, full
               of acids, walks
               through the cells,
               climbing to the nature
               of the brains,
               so you don't die of love.
               Pay attention to that:
               your future is in your hands!
               The heart is only a subsidiary.



        poet Peggy Dugan French   Cardiff, California

               weather poem

               there is a storm front moving in
               my heart is stirring around
               wondering what your next move will be
               the clouds gently shift
               I see you on the horizon
               heading towards me
               winds in the northeast
               moving you closer
               now you are here
               chance of thunderstorms...


      
poet Kelley Jean White                          
                        Laconia, New Hampshire

Unable to sleep
stumbling to the window, blinking--
first fireflies!                                                

                whispers
                just birds far away
                lonely again

   wild iris 
   waiting for the heron's
   return

                          frozen pond--are you
                          my mirror?
                          withered bare trees


    poet Julie A. Dickson  
                          Exeter, Hew Hampshire

    4 Seasons Haiku

    Worms fear early birds
    Tree buds emerge silently
    Mother Nature wakes

    Sunlight permeates
    Cicadas echo in song
    Snake basks in the heat

    Quiet garden wall
    Leaves rustle among the pines
    Poetry prevails

    White blanket like lace
    Ice shimmers on frozen pond
    Fish slumber below


and! from Angelee Deodhar   Chandigarh, India





"I'm purring, Tama!  What an
uplifting way for Angelee to
end our post!" mews assistant
editor Frosty...
assistant editor Tama replies,
"These poets and their lovely
poems- Mister Editor, 
I'll purr all day long!"

Noble assistant editors,
you have created a lovely post-
special treats for everyone!
And! We will


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!
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