Sunday, October 25, 2020

poets!... t. kilgore splake, George Held, r soos, S. Liaqath Peeran, Cathy Porter, John McDonald, Judith Partin-Nielsen, and Mary Jo Balistreri!...

Assistant Editor Kitty Kali,
mewing insistently, "Poetry, Mister Editor!   We all need        
       our poems and poetry       
    on this cold winter day!"

Yes, noble assistant! And, we'll begin with this poetic blessing... a
      Cherokee blessing... 

              Cherokee Prayer Blessing

                    May the Warm Winds of Heaven

                    Blow softly upon your house.

                    May the Great Spirit

                    Bless all who enter there.

                    May your Mocassins

                    Make happy tracks

                    in many snows,

                    and may the Rainbow

                    Always touch your shoulder.

Yes, happy tracks in our falling snow! Snow that assists in subduing our wild and disheartening Colorado wildfires- yes, and, more poetry!...

poet tkilgore splake's latest published poetry collection,  CEMETARY DREAMS, from Transcendent Zero Press...

           trees                                 november

       roots in heaven                         late night shadows

     branches rising to sky                black rorschach silhouettes

     seeking to touch god                  breeze whispering not yet

                          dear mom

                      sorry not obeying

                      your do's and don'ts

                      son family black sheep

                      forever a rolling stone

                      lost in muddy waters

                      rambling guitar blues

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

       Whoever truly creates is alone.
                     --Czeslaw Milosz

       Solitary refinement-
       province of poets and wiccans,
       for whom retreat
       into nature enables
       devine enchantment

                       A sioux child swaddled
                       on her mother's back
                       the snow falling

     poet r soos, Joshua Tree, California...


       if you listen close
       you will hear everybody
       talking in poetry                                         


                                 I picture your walk
                        in the silent desert dressed
                                  in burlap and stars

    poet S. liaqath Peeran, Bengaluru,      India...


      Whenever your thoughts possess me,

      I turn to your book of poems.

      Your love songs trouble my heart.

      An ache, a sigh, tears of blood.

      O! my beloved! Let my grief wash my sins. 

      Turn my black soul to lightning white.

      Can I be that wind to give you solace? 

      That light to illumine your path ways?

      Can I be that fragrance of a rose?

      Can I be that perfume of Arabia?

      O! beloved! Turn me into a nightingale. 

      Let me sing songs to delight you forever.

      This absence creates mirages and deliriums.

      Drives me to longings and desolate thoughts.

              poet Cathy Porter, Omaha, Nebraska...

     At night
     When stars go blue
     We skip rocks across the lake               At dawn
     Tell jokes to the fish                         Deer on the lookout
     Wait for a splash                              For treats
     Of laughter

poet John McDonald, Edinburgh, Scotland...     (

oot frae the haar         lignin cantie-       sundoon into the haar         her braith            aye wairmth
hern snuves                on ma rig           in her rosary beads

out from the mist        lying contented     sundown    
...and into the mist       her breath            still warmth          
heron glides              on my back          in her rosary beads

one of
t. kilgore splake's 'poet trees', Calumet, Michigan 
    (bear creek haiku's, poems, and photos of Judith and I!)

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

                       M edicine Buddhas

                       A rise in endless space as

                       N uminous

                       T ibet

                       R eturns

                       A lawys to the heart

                          home of her people

poet Mary Jo Balistreri, Waukesha, Wisconsin...

In the Labyrinth of Old Love
  with respect to Jim Zimmerman, The last Word 
You can be the sun's fierce fire
if I can be the rainbow that links both land and sea.

You can be the obsidian flit and frit of volcanoes
if I can be the sea glass held within a child's hand.

You can be the fall's harvest of leaves
if I can be the ashes piled against our roses.

You can be the river's constellation of stars
while I can be the swirling nebula.

You can be flame that tears its way through fields     if I can be the charred ghosts of old melodies.

The burning bush of Moses, you can be that too,
and I'll be embers that sustain our hearth.


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, October 17, 2020

poets!... Matthew Banash, Ed Markowski, Judith Partin-Nielsen, Kiersta Recktenwald, Dennis Rhodes, Patricia Carragon, Alan Catlin, Carl Mayfield, r soos, Mary Jo Balistreri, and Carrie Magness Radna...!

"Poetry, Mister Editor!  Kitties, peoples, and even puppies need their poetry, and! their treats, Mister Editor!!"

Yes, noble assistants!  And let's begin with two poems by Matthew Banash, Charlotte,     North Carolina...

     Blue heron mid-stream                       

     His reflection shimmering

     Another poem

                    Autumn winds swirl

                    Leaves scattering, falling

                    Not one returns home.

              poet Ed MarkowskiAuburn Hills, Michigan...

           deserted beach I am the driftwood I walk past

      painting the fence white the painter paints a purple peony

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

           M edicine Buddhas

           A rise in endless space as

            N uminous 

             T ibet

            R eturns

             A lways  to the heart   
                        home of her people


    poet Kiersta Recktenwald, Vienna, Maine...


         Home remains beyond California,
         Beyond the rockies,
         Beyond Appomattox,
         Even past the deep and energetic blue;
         Home is at a vibrant rainbow
         Without assumptions,
         Inside ourselves,
         Beyond eternity.

    poet Dennis Rhodes, Naples, Florida...

         Dr. listened to my heart
         heard a strong poetic impulse
         beating merrily away.

   poet Patricia Carragon, 'that Brooklyn girl'...

      like cat's eyes
      doors to inner space
      open and shut

                 if kittens could vote
                 Donald Trump's wig would be sold
                 as kitty litter

           poet Alan Catlin, Schenectady, New York...

   Still Life With Lighthouse      Peace

    Storm clouds beyond                   Horse tail clouds in pale
    island point.                             blue sky over North Point.

    The whit caps of                        Seagulls roosting on sandbar
    the riptide.                              where the Sound meets sea.

    Even the seagulls                       low tide receding:
    silent now.
                                               even the waves are resting.

                                         (thank you, Angelee... we miss you)

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

               cold morning                   unchurched, still I turn
                  cold feet ---                    when the meadowlark
               no detachment here                   begins to sing

                     poet r soos, Cholla Needles, California...

          welcome                                    poet

         when you know my heart                 I do not grow old
         there will still be deeper paths           I simply feel more wild
         to travel along                              with the need to dance

           poet Mary Jo Balistreri
           Waukesha, Wisconsin...


       the fabric of life
       because the weave
       seeks a new design


       wordless is the red light
       of tangled thoughts
       tiny knots
       in the knit and purl of life


       a blank page
       the white solitude needed
       to clear one's mind
       and imagine a new stitch

       poet Carrie Magness Radna,
             Manhattan, New York...

             kitty spagetti, he's
             dreaming of meatballs plenty
             when he see my shoes

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)