poets and artists Judith Partin-Nielsen, James B. Peters, Mary Jo Balistreri, r. soos, Ajša Džemila Zahirović, Rex Sexton, t. kilore splake, Rumi, Ismail Khayat, and The Wire's Dream Magazine...

                          from The Wire's Dream Magazine


      poet Judith Partin-Nielsen, 

      Longmont, Colorado..

     closing the circle

      closing the circle                           poet James B. Peters,               

      of my life                                   Cottontown, Tennessee...

      diameter once 

      vast as the horizon                            Behind

      now searching for                             The shadows of ages

      the radius of                                   Mankind

      that blessed path                               Walks into       

      leading to the                                  A hopeful future.

      heart of Everything

      poet Mary Jo Balistreri,

      Genesee Depot, Wisconsin...

     Maybe

      the fabric of life

      unravels

      because the weave

      seeks a new design

      Maybe

      wordless is the red light

      of tangled thoughts

      tiny knots

      in the knit and purl of life

      Maybe

      a blank page

      the white solitude needed

      to clear one's mind

      and imagine a new stitch

poet r. soos, Joshua Tree, California...

   place

   becoming old folks

   was not in our plans my love

   and yet here we are

                                recognizing

                                ourselves enduring

                                a good lifetime together

                                is hilarious

poet Ajša Džemila Zahirović,

                     Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina...

     U ran zoru               In the early dawn
     krijesnice odlažu       The fire-flies put to rest
     svoje svjetiljke.          Their lamps.


Stari most                  The Old Bridge                     
i rijeka Neretva -          And the Neretva River
neprolazna ljepota.       The undying beauty.


Ti u dalekoj zemlji!      You, in a far away country!
Navrati,                     Stop by.
nebo je višebojno.         The sky has many hues.

                         artist Rex Sexton
                  miss you so much, Rex...


poet t. kilgore splake,
Calumet, Michigan...

   poet's ghost dancing

 around campfire flames

  whispering to the stars

                         poet's soul rising

                        beyond fire's ashes

                        wisdom everywhere

       blades of grass

    penetrating concrete

     nature always wins



Rumi...

You broke the cage and flew.
                
                         Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing
                                 there is a field. I'll meet you there.


                                           
          artist Ismail Khayat, Kurdistan Regional Government, Iraq...

            
see you in a moment...




ayaz daryl nielsen
                                           

you can mail your poetry to:

                bear creek haiku

                PO Box 596

                Longmont, CO

                80502   

                USA   

                (SASE's are appreciated)

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

                  darylayaz@me.com (include postal address)

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

                                    that's ok, too (again, include postal address)

James B. Peters, pl. wick, Paula Yup, Faiz Ahmad, t. kilgore splake, Judith Partin-Nielsen, Carl Mayfield, George Held, Hero Kurda and Alana Marie Levinson-LaBrosse, and! Karen O'Leary...

poet James B. Peters, Cottontown, Tennessee...

                      spring is,                     spring in the garden                

            with the crocuses blooming,        redbud trees blooming

                   not too distant                raised, seed to flower      

          spring, day two,                                   in a spring sun

             dew drops                                      a line of turtles

            on the lawn                                         on a log

                        versifier pl. wick, Empire, Colorado...           

                      notes from

                         a tin-cup journey...

                         when a man arrives at
                         that swaying
                         jute and slat-wood bridge
                         strung precariously
                         high above the deep
                         and rumbling
                         dark-river ravine---
                         whether he hesitates
                         white-knuckled
                         gripping rope rails
                         or confidently
                         strides ahead   hat
                         pushed back in defiance
                         hiking stick   striking
                         a hearty cadence--
                         the choice   determined by
                         how enthusiastically
                         he embraces
                         the road he has traveled...


artist Paula Yup, Spokane, Washington...

      poet Faiz Ahmad, Madras, India...

      telephone wire
      lonely crow shaking his head
      no one to talk to !

                 bird shrinks to a dot
                 and vanishes - somewhere deep 
                 within my seeing

     dangling from the sun -
     the skyscrapers like frozen 
     earrings; summer winds

                 pale dawn sky -
                 the chirps and twitters
                 start birding

poet t. kilgore splake, Calumet, Michigan...

                poet's soul dancing                    smell of paper

             around campfire flames              feel of book's weight

              whispering to the stars               hungry mind escaping

   

poet Judith Partin-Nielsen, Longmont, Colorado...

                            Niobrara

                            Niobrara River, bridges 
                            not crossed, the family crest

                            remaining on branding irons

                            for cattle long sold, courageous

                            red barn's peeling paint, but

                            still standing- the land is empty

                            now, but not of memory or

                            beauty or winds blowing snow

                            across the Sand Hills.

poet Carl Mayfield, Rio Rancho, New Mexico...

the wind                                  Blank Look #739

   tells the trees                              

      what it needs                                           the resonance

                                                                 in the bones

                                                                 gone before:  

                                                                 who's listening

                                                                 to that?

poet George Held, New York, New York...

   from 'Haikuniverse  a daily haiku or micro poem'

                        Winter lingers -
                        fingers of spring still wearing
                        woolen gloves


               poet Hero Kurda, Kirkuk, Iraq...

             You in Me

               On the shore of the warm sea
               I stand
               My heels kiss your shores
               I lift my dress to my knees
               A wave
               Tosses your pearl to me
               Stretch out a hand
               You grow in me
               Turn out the light
               We become three

       translator, Alana Marie Levinson-LaBrosse, Iraq


poet Karen O'Leary, West Fargo, North Dakota...

          cupid let loose                 the pilgrim pauses 
          in a violent land...             for a silent moment...
          love...peace                      twilight whispers

   

assistant editor's Frosty and Tama:
"We've completed this post, 
Mister Editor!"

"And!" Assistant editor Kitty Kali mews,
"This also means treats for every one of us?" 

Yes, noble assistants, treats!  Treats and belly rubs for all!




see you in a moment




you can mail your poetry to:

bear creek haiku

                PO Box 596

                Longmont, CO

                80502   

                USA   

                (SASE's are appreciated)

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

                  darylayaz@me.com (include postal address)

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

                                    that's ok, too (again, include postal address)

Peggy Dugan French, Juanita Torrence-Thompson, Carl Mayfield, Joanna M. Weston, r. soos, t. kilgore splake, Paulo Dias Neme, Teresinka Pereira, and, you and us...

poet Peggy Dugan French, Cardiff, California...

             batter dripping from fingers      adults now
             laughter filling the room         family gatherings
             remembering....                     shifting with the wind 

            

poet Juanita Torrence-Thompson, Bayside, New York...

                    LOVE HAIKU

                    Sweet smell, honey talk
                    Followed by warm chartreuse dreams
                    Spinning from above.

poet Carl Mayfield, Rio Rancho, New Mexico...

                          the wind
                                 tells the trees
                                       what it needs

poet Joanna M. Weston, Shawnigan Lake, British Columbia...

                            this bench given
                            in memory
                            an old woman sits

poet r. soos, Joshua Tree, California...

                              this poem

                              is not poetry
                              not in any way you want
                              it is what it is

                              your poem

                              may be poetry
                              because it comes from your mind
                              it is what it is

                              this poem

                              could be poetry
                              if you hear inner music
                              if is what if is

                              our poem

                              will be poetry
                              in every dance we both dance
                              she is what he is


poet t. kilgore splake, Calumet, Michigan...
                                               

                                winter memories
                

                                 tiny snowflake

                               melting on tongue

                            bringing warm memories

                              cross-country skiing

                                ice hockey games

                                frozen mill pond

                               skating with allison

                                holding her close

                               tender young times

                                living the moment

poet Paulo Dias Neme, São Paulo, Brasil...
         translated by Teresinka Pereira...

     It will not be long

     It will not be long
     when humanity one day
     will shine
     in all the cities
     with the desired peace
     of the man with good will,
     who refuses the sword
     and preaches love.
     With love comes peace,
     peace that liberates man from pain
     peace that takes hatred out of sight.


All of us at Bear Creek Haiku are convinced that each and every one of us, you and us, will have the best Valentine's Day ever, you, us, and all our loved ones...

   

extra treats, hugs and a happy and specially blessed Valentine's Day to all! And, we'll


see you in a moment...

James Babbs, Joanna M. Weston, Teresinka Pereira, t. kilgore splake, Carl Mayfield, pogo, Steve Ausherman, Chen-ou Liu, P C K Prem, Patricia Carragon, Judith Partin-Nielsen...

    

"Poetry!" Insistent mewing from 

assistant editors Frosty and Tama- "let's create a caterific post of poets and poetry, Mister Editor!"

And! Noble assistant editors, Google's dropping much of it's online presence, including blogs such as ours, so... we'll move our online presence to Word Press, and, we will learn how to do this!"

Assistant editor Kali, insisting, "We can do it by working together, Mister Editor...  and now! Poets, their poetry!"

poet James Babbs, Stanford, Illinois...

  a gravel road

  leading to the graveyard

  a lone coyote running

                         the silence of fresh snow

                         broken by the murmur

                         of footsteps

poet Joanna M. Weston, Shawnigan Lake, British Columbia...

                this bench given

                in memory                         a dog howls

                an old woman sits                through my dreams

                                                      night wind

     poet Teresinka Pereira, 

                       Ottawa Hills, Ohio

         ENIGMA

         Once I jumped out 

         of my rose skin

         and modestly

         entered the fountain

         of crystalline enigmas.

         Since then I remain unknown

         but I have the impetuosity

         of a loose ocean

         and phosphorescent pupils

         to engender

         the most daring dreams.


    poet t. kilgore splake
                      Calumet, Michigan

             spring motorcycle fevers

            graybeard's annual hungers

               chrome leather speed


         life's too short

     dollars not buying hours

                                                      write  write  write

 poet Carl Mayfield, Rio Rancho, New Mexico

Going, Going. . .

                          Sometimes she's sad when she thinks of us
                          going.  Unable to say dead.  What will happen
                          to her?  We remind her that a passel of family
                          are waiting in what used to be called the wings,
                          not to mention the half dozen butterfly bushes
                          she can hover above.  Assurances are offered
                          that someone will be there to bring her back
                          once the other butterflies have withdrawn 
                          for the night.

                                        she says ok
                                           the sadness shifting
                                              inside her sigh

                   States often annoying neighbor kitty-
                           "And we have all those
                            loved ones who have 
                            moved on before us 
                            waiting, lovingly 
                            waiting for us 
                            on this side of the
                            Rainbow Bridge, the
                            Bridge that someday
                            we'll all walk 
                            over together!"

              poet pogo, having a cold one on the Okeechobee...

                                old Ford pickup
                                classic body lines--
                                used to be
                                   a real looker
                                with race-ready heart
                                and overdrive gears.

                                now
                                she's a little dented
                                paint faded'n dusty
                                seat's worn
                                but hasn't
                                   lost its bounce
                                under the hood
                                   still sounds solid.

                               always starts.
                               and after a
                                  long night when you
                               nurse too many beers
                               she'll take ya home
                                  anytime. . .

poet Steve Ausherman, Albuquerque, New Mexico

   Muddy shoes
   Drying on basement cement.                Pond ice cracking
   April's snowy thaw.                           The March sun
                                                      rises higher.

poet Chen-ou Liu, Canada

     skinny dip          the hillside                    alone
     a river of stars     ablaze in red and gold...    in a creaking bed 
     between us          the day my friend died      motel night

         poet PCK Prem, India   I feel the touch of destiny unknown.

dear poet Patricia Carragon, Brooklyn, New York...

               morning shadows               in the courtyard
               on sidewalk                     a squirrel goes nuts         
               a cat crosses                    over fallen acorns

and! our beloved poet Judith Partin-Nielsen, Longmont, Colorado...

              things unfold                     wanting to go home 
              as they do                         longing toward that place
              and even in that                  now only remembered
              there is a special beauty
                                                   still, I see the horizon



see you in a moment



ayaz daryl nielsen                                            

you can mail your poetry to:

                bear creek haiku

                PO Box 596

                Longmont, CO

                80502   

                USA   

                (SASE's are appreciated)

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

                  darylayaz@me.com (include postal address)

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

                                    that's ok, too (again, include postal address)