Sunday, September 27, 2020

Poets!... Peggy Dugan French and Mary Oliver, Rochelle Cohen, r soos, John McDonald, Ishikawa Tokuboku, Gypsy violins, Kiersta Recktenwald, t. kilgore splake, Steve Ausherman, and Judith Partin-Nielsen!...

  Noble assistant editors Frosty and Tama, mewing, "Poetry, Mister Editor!   Kitties, peoples, puppy dogs, kittens,               we all need poetry!"

So true, noble assistant editors...             

    let's be about our poets and poetry!

poet Rochelle Cohen
              Marlton, New Jersey...            poet r soos,        
        (for you, Rex)                              Joshua Tree, California...                                     
Sillyates                                  assign

I had a Paris lycée chum                    chairs for the neighbors
Who was a Paramecium                      ballon strings for each child
Le vin he drank at l'école                   and have a party
Until he filled his vacuole
The verb he loved to conjugate                                         eyes
Was the present tense "to mate"
If he wanted to be more                             her slow gaze touches
There was no time for l'amour         thoughts throughout my viscerous
Paramecia must split in two                        subconscious discourse
Before they dance a pas de deus
from Stopover in Stavanger...                                         
                                                           I just want to say
Time is fluid outside of earth's reality.              hello as a new poem    
I'll go back to that tarmac.                           stay and see me dance
Stargazing in Stavanger, I will find you.

                    poet John McDonald, Edinburgh, Scotland...

       swan doverin -                        swan asleep -
       heid buirit i the swan's-doon         head buried in the swan's down
       o'r sel                                   of herself

                    delicat pink                      delicate pink
                    as lips                             as lips
                    apenin gowan                    opening daisy

         weet thrabs on'r umberellae          rain beats on her umbrella
         we daunce roond dubs               we dance round puddles
         ...drum boogie                         ...drum boogie

             to my dear wife Ann, our children and their families.

                             poet Ishikawa Tokuboku...

      the sand could care less
      it slips through my closed fingers         I laugh and carry
      so fast                                        mother on my back three steps
                                                      sad that she's so light
I climbed to the peak
and ran down waving my hat               stretch my arms and legs
for the fun of it                              outwards from my sad torso
                                                 and slowly get up
                       distant flute music
                           makes me drop my head to cry
                               so no one will see me

      poet Kiersta Recktenwald,
            Vienna, Maine...

            taut fog

            winter's first swatch

            of freezing

 (cf. Buson's 'sweet springtime showers')

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

          touching forest wildflowers             slowing down life

             gently kissing petals                 listening to birdsongs

           drowning in sweet nectars           living in nature's beauty

    poet Steve Ausherman, Albuquerque, New Mexico...

       A child skips stones
          Across a still pond.
       Clouds break the surface
                   Of my regrets.

                             wind in the trees.
                              clouds on the mountaintops.
                             deeply breathing world.

             Left over Chinese food.
               A lake of soy sauce.
             A midnight movie life raft
               Ferries me across the water.

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

                 Rock Whisperings

                    fitting my palm against

                    the face of the rock

                    listening deeply to feel

                    it's pulse, listening to

                    the rhythm of breaths,

                    whispers, wisps of winds,

                    scents, of meadow and pine

                    listening to the voices of

                    sandstone and granite speaking

                    "All my ancestors are here

                    and I will remain with them”

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 
         (include postal address)

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

Saturday, September 19, 2020

poets!... Robert Penn Warren, S. L. Peeran, David C. Rice, Cathy Porter, Robert Wooten, Jane Stuart, Dennis Rhodes, Pl. Wick and Pogo, Judith Partin Nielsen, Ed Markowski, and Lao Tzu!...

  poet S. L. Peeran, Bengaluru, India...


       In the ancient cave sat saints

       For enlightenment, illumination 

       Now a place of worship 

       I visit and pray, but my muttering 

       Rebounds back, echoing back to me.

       Where is the music that enthralls,

       That golden voice of ‘ragas’

       That can send one into raptures.

       It is only the magic of love

       That rebounds and embraces.

       The silence of mind and soul.

       The stillness in the air

       The coolness in the atmosphere

        Brings peace and tranquility to mind.

   poet David C. Rice, Berkeley, California...            

      Unlikely, but

      suppose we made peace with the earth.

      Trips to the zoo would be fun.

      The preteen kids 


      by no-longer-endangered lemurs,

      wouldn't ask why

      we chopped the forests down.

       poet Cathy Porter, Omaha, Nebraska...

       One rose in the vase

       The smell of coffee, brewing

                                             Your shadow, smiling

             Morning traffic                             Flood waters

             Gone                                        Dog on the roof

             2020                                          Hurry


  poet Robert Wooten,               poet Jane Stuart, Greenup, Kentucky...  

    Durham, North Carolina...

                                                      Early morning-  

        like a copperhead                         the forest owl

        the brown water hose strikes             shaking his feathers

        when I step on it                          sings his name


          poet Dennis Rhodes, Naples, Florida...

It's so easy to 

create a smile:                Read. Write. Create.  Do

just write down an S       whatever it takes to make

and go the extra mile.         your brain, matter.

        poet Pl. Wick, Empire, Colorado...

        sweetgrass & wild blossoms

        sprinkled across

        the Como Churchyard--

        inscribed in neat serif-form

        down the reverse-side

        of one gray stone marker...

              you may be high

              you may be low

              you may be rich

           you may be po' child

            but when the Lord

                gets ready

           you've got to move 

        resting askew on the


        arched monument top--

        glinting wine-glass green

        in the late afternoon light--

        a homemade

           bottle-neck guitar slide...


                  Mississippi Fred McDowell

Pogo   down Hwy 59 headin' to Picayune, Mississippi


Noble assistant editors Frosty and Tama, "Thank you, Pl. and Pogo!  And now, more poetry, Mister Editor! Kitties and humans, we all need 

                    more poets and their worthy poems!"

poet Judith Partin Nielsen,           poet Ed Markowski

   Longmont, Colorado...                      Ann Arbor, Michigan...

he paid for                                  eviction notice

                                                   a boot flies through

my wedding bouquet                              the picture window

with a hot check

and that was just the beginning                     mediating. . .

                                                              the frog

        standing here                                  on a pond buddha     

        staring through the fence

        haiku arise

When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.

~ Lao Tzu

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 
         (include postal address)

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

Saturday, September 12, 2020

poets!... Juanita Torrence-Thompson, Ed Markowski, Cathy Porter, pl. wick, normal (a heightened sense of light), Miriam Sagan (Star Gazing), Peggy Dugan French and Mother Teresa, t. kilgore splake (Poet's First Light), plus, Dakar, Senegal!...

Noble assistant editor Kitty, mewing, "We all need         more poetry, yes, more poetry, Mister Editor!                             And I'll help you!"...  

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


               She plays the Koto
               Softly as a gentle wind
               Strokes an olive branch

  poet Ed Markowski,
      Auburn Hills, Michigan...

ripening cherries
     her kiss a perfect balance
           of sweet & tart

      red sunrise
          the potential
             of tomato seeds

    concert cancelled
        raindrops play
           the bandshell roof

                           poet Cathy Porter, Omaha, Nebraska...

                                                  At night
          One rose in the vase                 When the stars go blue      
          The smell of coffee, brewing       We skip rocks across the lake
          Your shadow, smiling                Tell jokes to the fish
                                                   Wait for a splash
                                                   Of laughter   

        poet pl. wick   roadside--outside Belle Fourche, SD...

           alongside the gravel road--
           an Andrew Wyeth stretch of
           juniper fence-posts nestled
           in October meadow grass.
           twist-rust strands
           drape in tired
           sagging disarray   from
           bleached upright to upright.

                                 setting my rucksack in
                                 the scratch-dry berm growth
                                 I too  sag down to rest.

                                 by my right boot   a scarred
                                 flattened Miller can
                                 covered with rust
                                    dust and despair.

            poet normal, Saugerties, New York...
(from his latest poetry book, a heightened sense of light
selected poems, at

                     beauty flies among dead flowers

                     touches the pomegranate
                     and the skeleton
                                  and majestically
                                  with the delicacy
                                  of children
                                  playing in the 
                                  the permanency
                                  of hummingbirds
                                  drinking water
                                  from a

            poet Miriam Sagan, Truth or Consequences, New Mexico...                                        (from her latest book, Star Gazing,
                      published by Cholla Needles Arts and Literary Library)...

                it startles us                       and the creamy pale
                an unexpected guest --           azure 
                full moon                          of blue lagoon

                                                      floating in mist
              footprints in snow                   hot water
              crescent moon, all my              reborn
              beautiful failures
                                                      moon comes up
                                                      again, long night
                grown, beautiful                   follows dawn
                the child I bore beneath
                the moons eclipse                 I go on
                                                      being all this
                                                      at once.

                     from Peggy Dugan French, Cardiff, California...

                 poet t. kilgore splake ("the cliffs dancer") Calumet, Michigan... 
       (from his latest book, POET"S First Light, at

               wilderness images                     jim harrison

           sandhill crane silhouettes             last poem on desk
          sun setting over marshland          final words never read
         shadows like monks praying           passport into heaven

    long white escape

  frozen blizzard beauty      
   purity of blown snow
   winter winds creating
      soft pine music
     path disappearing
     poet blessedly lost

from noble assistant editor the Froster...
"Mister Editor, worthy dudes in Dakar, Senegal,
are already celebrating this, our latest poetry post!"

Awesome, noble assistant!  And!, We'll see you,
all, and everyone in our soon-to-be next post!...

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)