poet Patricia Carragon,
Brooklyn, New York...
ancient
like the pyramids
cattitude
two bodega cats
relax on top of freezer
hot day in August
morning meows
cat breath meets mine
time to get up!
poet Jo Balistreri, Waukesha, Wisconsin...
her fingers touch
mom's bracelet on her wrist... rapt in rain
new girl at school how good it feels
without sandals
Praise
Praise this day that beckons
scoops me into its net trellises of trumpet vines
this spacious silence bamboo clacking in the wind
this joy that is morning the thin blue cast
of a skimmed mild day
poet Sarah Mahina Calvello, San Francisco, California...
Outside the window
The moon conducts a lullaby
Midnight fudge sundae
The edge of something
Love leaves a mark
On this lazy Sunday
Chasing dreams
Flowers rustle crisp and white
Moonlit rain
Rose wine
Wrapping wishes away
Thoughtful celebration
poet Carl Mayfield, Rio Rancho, New Mexico...
Ike And Copper
Names meant nothing to the horses.
They knew how long I would be seated.
When they looked at me there was
no distance between us,
no place to be someone else.
poet James B Peters, Cottontown, Tennessee...
The old horse The quiet
Its head hung low At the end of the day,
Meets a legless soldier. When chores are done.
Together they rise A gentle breeze
Above their pain. Whispering in the sunset.
The haiku
In the wind
Chimes.
At the porch
Bluebirds
Chirping
Summer's
Last tweets.
poet Judith Partin-Nielsen,
Longmont, Colorado...
Weeding my garden
bending, pulling, sweating
and remembering. . .
in the sweltering late
afternoon, remembering. . .
the toil of my ancestors,
branding cattle, mowing hay,
tending their phantom gardens
in the distant Sand Hills
and quite suddenly,
they appear standing tall
among the giant Sun Flowers
looking skyward with
faces kissed by sunlight
and beauty. . . remembering
poet t kilgore splake. Calumet, Michigan...
touching forest wildflowers coffee tossed in fire
gently kissing petals words rising in steam
drowning in sweet nectars creating new poems
poet Antonio Machado...
To talk with someone, Form your letters slowly and well:
ask a question first, making things well
then-- listen. is more important than making them.
But poetry?
It is pure and intense play,
so it is like pure and intense life,
so it is like pure and intense fire.
You'll see the coal burning.
see you in a moment...
poet James B Peters, Cottontown, Tennessee...
The old horse The quiet
Its head hung low At the end of the day,
Meets a legless soldier. When chores are done.
Together they rise A gentle breeze
Above their pain. Whispering in the sunset.
In the wind
Chimes.
At the porch
Bluebirds
Chirping
Summer's
Last tweets.
poet Judith Partin-Nielsen,
Longmont, Colorado...
Weeding my garden
bending, pulling, sweating
and remembering. . .
in the sweltering late
afternoon, remembering. . .
the toil of my ancestors,
branding cattle, mowing hay,
tending their phantom gardens
in the distant Sand Hills
and quite suddenly,
they appear standing tall
among the giant Sun Flowers
looking skyward with
faces kissed by sunlight
and beauty. . . remembering
poet t kilgore splake. Calumet, Michigan...
touching forest wildflowers coffee tossed in fire
gently kissing petals words rising in steam
drowning in sweet nectars creating new poems
poet Antonio Machado...
To talk with someone, Form your letters slowly and well:
ask a question first, making things well
then-- listen. is more important than making them.
But poetry?
It is pure and intense play,
so it is like pure and intense life,
so it is like pure and intense fire.
You'll see the coal burning.
see you in a moment...
and, 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)
