Wednesday, February 28, 2018

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,


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?

                    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


                            free*flight*fought*found  - 

                            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 


                          'pencil madness'  poet Ed Markowski

poet Marc Carver

                    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
                    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

                                                     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
                        USA                (an SASE is appreciated)

From other than the USA, email to (and/or)
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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