Wednesday, February 6, 2019

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


         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.

                                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
                (SASE's are appreciated)

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

Last!  If you choose to send poetry via email from within the US,
                                    that's ok, too (again, include postal address)


Unknown said...

this post, and! the comment section have been a blessing for mister editor and kitty assistant editors alike...
best to your day!

Brown-stone Poets said...

Treats for the staff. A big Brooklyn thank you for posting my poems. Terrific issue. =^^=

Anonymous said...

extra treats for al the fine Brownstone Poets folk!

Jules said...

Google, as I understand it is just dumping Google +
Not Blogs... But I could be wrong.
I would check before Mewving out... of Blogger.

Unknown said...

Dear Ayez Daryl,
Thank you so much for mentioning Rex in the title of the post and for work kind words about him and posting a picture of "Constant is the Rain." I am so moved and touched. It warmed my heart to see it.
I loved Judith's poem. I feel that way, myself.
I am reading "Kissing the Stitches" and I will write a note to you about it.
Thank you very much. It means the world to me to see his name on Bear Creek Haiku.
With warmest regards,

Brown-stone Poets said...

just noticed the "i" is missing in my first name. MEOW! :D