Friday, December 20, 2019

poets Rochelle S. Cohen, Tuharan, Jane Stuart, t. kilgore splake, Angelee Deodhar, pl wick, Don Wentworth, Pablo Neruda, r soos, and, the touch of Florence Nightingale...

                           poet Rochelle S. Cohen,
                              Marlton, New Jersey...                                      

          A Swedish jellyfish named Inga
          Was known in the depths as a swinga
          The stunning Medusa
          She couldn't be loosa
          Would love ya' and leave ya' and sting ya'

                                            A Dutch Haiku

                                            Girl with Pearl Earring
                                            Masterpiece by the artists
                                            Vermeer and Oyster

and, as always, we love and miss you, Rex...

                              poet Tuharan...

                     That Angel Talked Like A Sailor

                What part of heaven did she come from?
                      That angel talked like a sailor
                            and she was dressed

                     I can't even repeat the things she said,
                or picture once more the shape of her breasts.
                           Though I know one thing:
                              My fear of dying has


      noble assistant editor Tama, mewing,
            "More kitties, Mister Editor!
                 Not enough kitties in this post!"

our heartfelt thank you to Angelee Deodhar's addressing this editor's aberrant lack of kittiness...                         we miss you...

poet Jane Stuart, Greenup, Kentucky...

           My sleigh flies                                   Tumbleweeds
           through a meadow       Earth answers       made of snow--
           made for flowers         to the song          a cold mirage
                                        of silver bells

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

         winter silhouettes                                      
         bitter wind blowing                       others lost in dreams   
         music of bare branches                   you just went ahead    
                                                       started writing poetry

assistant editor Kitty Kali, stating,
"Mister Editor, that's yet another of your own haiga you've snuck into this post!"

OK, yes, noble assistant editor, but!  Angelee Deodhar formatted them...

Kitty Kali, "Well... that makes it ok..."


     poet pl wick, Empire, Colorado...

         a small gap at
     the base of the cabin wall--
     winter's gusts sneak in
     bringing soft fuscous mice
     for company

                         late October
                         winter preparations--
                         wood-stove dust
                         oily creosote-black
                         soiled clothes and hair
                         ahhh--but a beer
                         awaits  chill and tempting
                         in the garage fridge...

                         ohhh great

                         the wife decides
                         it's time for  that
                         spontaneous dinner out--
                         reservations  maître d'
                         linen napkins and
                            import wine...

poet Don Wentworth, Pittsburg, Pennsylvania...

   one noble truth leaf after leaf after leaf

               near frozen rain                     just beyond reach
               beads on the leafless maple--      just within reach
               so, too, with love                     everything
               each little drop
               refracts the light           
                                           spring maple   key to my heart

poet Pablo Neruda...

When I am writing                poet r soos, Joshua Tree, California... 
I am not here
and when I return                forms
I am gone.          
                                      some want to be trees    
                                      others want to be leaves
                                      and each one belongs

see you in a moment...

               and, 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)

Saturday, December 7, 2019

Angelee Deodhar, Teresinka Pereira, Ajśa Zahirović, Rex Sexton and Rochelle, a sneaky bear, Sir Chris Faiers, Judith Partin-Nielsen, Cindy Rosmus, and, Juanita Torrence-Thompson...


Haiga! Poem by 
ayaz daryl nielsen, artist,
Angelee Deodhar...

assistant editor
Tama, mewing,
"You are loved
and remembered
by all,

          poets Teresinka Pereira, Ottawa Hills, Ohio, 
            and Ajśa Zahirović, Bosnia and Herzegovina, in Sarajevo...  

poet Teresinka Pereira...             poet Ajśa Zahirović...

        PASSION                          You, in a far-away country!
                                           Stop by.
Time                                     The sky has many hues.
can't ever bend me down.
I have a panoramic tongue,           Ti u dalekoj zemlji!
hungry eyes                              Navrati,
and invisible feet:                       nebo je visêbojno.
I am in love!  

PAIXÁO                                   A good word uttered -
Nem o tempo                            It is life
pode impedir-me!                      In the eternal vessels.       
Tempo uma língua panorâmica,       
olhos famintos                          Lijepo rečena riječ
e pés invisíveis:                         život
estou apaixonada!                      u vječnim posudama.

             'Desert Flower', by Rex Sexton (for Rochelle)...
                               assistant editor Frosty, firmly stating,
                                        "We won't ever forget you, Rex..."

                  (snuck in by bear)          
          a poem by ayaz daryl nielsen...  

               The Heart Dance  

               Open your heart
                  inside may be a sigh,
                  a stone, a river,
                  a golden throne
                  or a sliver of ice
               Come, open your heart!
               Open your heart
                  inside may be a stumble,
                  a dance, grandmother’s lost
                  eyelash, or even
                  empty yearning
               Come, open your heart!
               Open your heart
                  inside, a drinking song,
                  an immortal’s kiss, or even
                  ink dark loneliness
               Come, open your heart!
               Come with your open heart
                  we’ll whirl and zumba
                  the dance of a found
                  eyelash, of an immortal’s
                  kiss, of an ice sliver
                  melting, melting, melting

                Come, heart of 
                  all hearts

                Come, beloved,

                   and dance.

annoying neighbor cat, insisting, "if a bear can sneak 
into this poetry post, so can a picture of me!"                     

noble assistant editor Kitty Kali, stating:
"Mister Editor, this is what you get for being sneaky..."

ok, noble assistants, no more sneakiness 
                    (without prior approval)

noble assistant editor Frosty, mewing,
       "poetry from a most favorite human
poet, and shaman, of Eel Pie Island Dharma fame        (a hippie memoir/haibun)
        Chris Faiers, Marmora, Ontario!"...

    After cold night
    scraping burnt commune rice pot
    on the lawn for birds

                  Making camp
                  in a vacant lot
                  with outcast cats

  (Frosty:  Blessings and belly rubs, Sir Faiers!)

   Balding father            Talked all night        Through thin walls
   hippie son                 ashes at dawn           radio blaring
   in an ancient pub        girls asleep              "It's All Right Now"

from our beloved Judith Partin-Nielsen, Longmont, Colorado,
poem that appeared in Yellow Mama (ed., precious Cindy Rosmus)... 

          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

       ...noble assistant editor Kitty Kali: 
                                      "Mister Editor, you sneaked again..."

                  poet Juanita Torrence-Thompson,
                                            Bayside, New York...
                Fallen leaves 
                Hug emerald grass                         
                Like a babe grasping a bottle             
                                             Soft winds transform
                                             Scarlet and golds                    
                                             Into dancing spirals of joy          
                                             Whispering and swishing
                                             To syncopated beats

see you in a moment...

               and, 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)