The Bamboo Hut Autumn 2016 Journal of contemporary tanshi
Autumn 2016
The Bamboo Hut Autumn 2016 Editors Notes.
Welcome to another issue of the Bamboo Hut contemporary tanshi journal. This issue has the usual collection of tanshi from poets from around the globe. Some are from regular contributors and some come from first time contributors. When I initially started this journal I had no idea how popular it would become with short form poetry writers. May I take this opportunity to express my gratitude to all who have contributed over the last few years. Without you the Hut would have been dismantled long ago. Recently my wife and I spent a week in Scotland, Perthshire, to be exact. The scenery was magnificent and the spirit of the history, culture and natural beauty of this part of Scotland has furnished me with many ideas for future poems. I also had time to reflect on The Bamboo Hut's future. As an individual project it takes much time to read submissions, answer emails, prepare the journal and upload it. As a result sometimes I find myself chasing time to publish the journal and at times errors creep in. This also takes away from the enjoyment of this project that I initially had. As a result I have decided to make a few changes regarding submissions, submission opening slots and one or two other minor tweaks. The Bamboo Hut will continue as an outlet for short form poetry. It may not have the status of other journals of this genre but it will remain to publish tanshi for the world to read.
Steve Wilkinson, editor.
Anne Benjamin
travelling east beyond the Rockies vast white prairies stir up spaces in my imagination
deep purple, gold turquoise and blood red silks you give colours that ripple through my life
at dusk up on the terrace I wait‌ willing a breeze to rouse the tall ashoka tree
Paul Smith
it's the darkness behind the light in her eyes that draws me the most --lantern moon
I want to write of blossoms world weary and ragged just like me
in and out of the shadows a butterfly shares its dream with me
tired of this life this world this pain --I light another cigarette and watch the stars die
Paul Smith
SKIMMING STONES
this peony heart of mine --how much longer must it wait to bloom
skimming stones --the broken sky becomes a mirror for my mind
this river of tears --will I drown one day in the darkness of its kiss
Bernadette O'Reilly
his back turned I slip out the door into darkness
never saw the world from daddy's shoulderssister and I
Rachel Sutcliffe
a different song at sunrise start of spring
your laboured breath the screech of an owl at sunset
given the night yet still the candle flickers
the silent alley a chill wind howls through hollowness
dew drops drip from the daffodil’s head snow lines the shadows
another year still you smile at me from the frame
Rachel Sutcliffe
open door wind chimes sing in spring
sail boats bob on rippling starlight darkness splashes
sunlit stream the young pup runs after his reflection
still snowing I sink deeper into silence
Julie Bloss Kelsey
steel grey sky outside the window of physical therapy a yellow butterfly drifts on the breeze
this spring the old oak drops another leafless branch my father finally asks me for advice
book festival -the woman selling religious inspiration sits alone and scowls
Sunday sketch my daughter draws the woman I wish I could be
beneath the red chequered tablecloth of the local pizzeria we hold hands for the first time
Julie Bloss Kelsey
face slightly tipped peeking through dusty curtains I exchange glances with the moon
your hand on my shoulder our marriage measured in decades of the rosary
gentle warmth as she snuggles deeper inside my heart my daughter
blushing roses a day past full bloom -we curl up together on the worn sofa
after the bedtime story one by one up the stairs knowing which child by the weight of each footstep
Anna Cates
CATKU windy streets an orange stray missing fur tufts
bird calls a cat’s gifted vole on the asphalt
big dogs and fast cars? the world is wild stay with me
spring friendship the warmth of a paw pad
little hon a sexy cat walk and a fluffy bum
Anna Cates
cloudy sky a church cemetery aging with oaks in tall grass mossy grave stones
blue bird pecking grasses for a nest April’s plea: don’t drop a bomb; plant a tree red roses born of spring rain there’s no silver lining on a mushroom cloud
corn tassels wind chimes rust in August rain at the swimming hole waters rush
poetry group hot raisins in homemade bread outside, across the pond, spring rainbow
Miriam Sagan
thinking about the weaver, barefoot on Persian rug
curve billed thrasher on the mailbox, it’s two-note call arrives
we make a vow to not discuss politics until next time
quarrel over, play “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” for you
Elizabeth Spragins
one reckless moment— my mare and I jump a fence though shadows lengthen crisp leaves skitter across faded remnants of the road
oaks rim the hillside strewn with leaves and rotten logs moss on a boulder tickles my outstretched fingers as I perch undecided
black clouds ride spring winds along rows of the corn field— a stone wall ahead hides the bridle path beyond my mare and I go around cold pillows of fog blur the edge of the forest colors shift to gray as I step into the mist my feet remember the path
snow geese patrol rows of dead stalks in a corn field dotted with puddles my abandoned blanket holds the soggy picnic basket
Marietta Jane McGregor
neatening the shoreline lakeside snow halo moon the graveyard path lined with everlastings middle age left leg asleep before me a small boy turning cross-eyed eyeballs a butterfly brassica leaves the broderie anglaise of a butterfly
two foghorns bridge the bay lowering cloud the cat's stare crawling upwards night moths solar eclipse from here and there voices gentle breeze sedge lands part into sections positive/negative your face on the pillow summer lightning
Muskaan Ahuja
parched land the differences between you and me
brushing teeth my thoughts go in all the directions
nothing but an utter loneliness a fallen autumn
secret love in her mehndi design his initial
Celesine Nudanu
valentine night a single cherry blossom marks his exit
moonlit night falling pink blossoms cover my nudity
break in the wind the tips of corn stalks clear in the haze
moonless path even my shadow forsakes me
morning rain even more blue the horizon
I cried the night you left only once not because of the cold pillow but for the stars that refused to shine.
Celesine Nudanu
dandelion bloom I pretend to inhale your musk yellow now and then fading
wet morning steaming coffee and your musk which must I savour now I lack the will for both
dark clouds billowing curtains close his days I watch, helpless as his breath fades with my memories
Ruth Asch
Earthernware eyes warm, unpretentious, shining - waiting to be filled.
If we stare down from the bridge long enough, we might just turn life upside down.
The wind writes on windows with raindrop ink in Arabic.
The man dressed in white has eyes for nothing but gold; will not see doves.
Jealous,I revel in leaf-flames. Love's sap drains; my heart stripped stark as the trees.
Sparkling shrine of snow; skin painted red, white, blue, I sacrifice my hands.
Richard St. Clair
growing old but still clinging to the follies of a youth l never had and will never have when will the victims be redeemed twisted in the ashes of their dying only a buddha can cure the depths of my suffering in dreams alone do I know my deepmost self the fruits of being rich are not for me the daystar comforts my light burden treetop cameo a skylark organizing its feathers ruffled by the rude gusts of early spring
I'm worlds apart from the struggling billions who thirst for clean water I sadly muse over my cup of gourmet coffee
Richard St. Clair
news from afar more casualties numbness overcomes my heart and my meandering mind
fueling the fire a harsh north wind in bitterest cold the midnight skies ablaze with a fearful glow
each word a pearl each thought a diamond in the rough
Richard St. Clair
she is beautiful my schizophrenic friend in her own way she is enlightened living in an enchanted world
the gated petting pony at the state fair just enough head for me to stroke
horrible memories turned into a beautiful dream so sweet upon waking so sweet the resolution
after a day of dissociation rhododendron blossoms! my heart is lifted at last
Malintha Perera down by the river where the flow thins my toe plays with a fallen plum listening to you recite poetry so now when the moon is on a branch you join and hug me from behind
and when I cry so hard into my pillow the spring rolls back into the sea in search of a dropped moon
after all my talk with the howling moon you had been crying silently with the daffodils
it was the last time I saw him with the mala beads the wisteria hangs broken
the birds are early today about how things pass away I smile and shush you as you talk in your sleep the blue sky against white clouds when have I wanted you so much
Eva Joan
the old park bench under the lantern heart-tattooed
feeding squirrels between oblique tombstones unbroken stillness
wasteland a train whistles into the stillness
cold spell in her voice memories
in the courtyard whispering leaves under the broom
ocean blue the mirrors of your soul thin ice breaks
Michael Jewell
Once I've had a night of sleep I will try again starting with a fresh sheet of paper--it can't be this hard to say what I feel
Warnings repeated by the door-to-door preacher words that bother me days later--the relentless beat of my windshield wipers
Ask me if I care. I couldn't care less. Give me one good reason why I should. I've already heard this story too many times.
Two letters she sent dated three days apart came at once and I wished the second in which she changed her mind had not been written
She learns the Top Ten by heart--memorizing all the easiest chords to accompany herself on a rent-to-buy guitar
Saigyo Hoshi writes to a person we can't see or perhaps he talks to himself--seeing his own face slip through clouds like the moon
Michael Jewell
Juniper bonsai costing just nine ninety-five waits on my table the man at the garden store said to mist it once a day
The stone Amitabha smiles on a pair of teenage girls wearing their silk kimonos: chrysanthemum flowers tilting in the breeze
A Navaho youth just off the Reservation swears at the driver who kicked him off the bus--waves his fist at the empty world
Bruce England
Answering the phone my uncle thinks I’m his brother
Back home I clean a haiku off my arm
Empty bag still in shape of wine bottle
A fat dog lopes across the floor the face of a seal
Her first nose on the face of her daughter
Sharon Koshy
Instinct
My Guardian Angel was cut Slaughtered and dismembered By Fate And the unsettling of the feathers Went unnoticed.
Mayflies
I had mayflies in my stomach Soiled by the dust of my decaying blood They dwelt in my ghost Too tired to fly, too tired to fight They believed in nothing No conviction, no hope.
Elizabeth Alford
before the fall we munched happily on branching fruit planting the seeds we spit out champagne sunset— we toast to our shared secret first christmas without him we take down the angel imprints in the snow and a rustle in the brush— but the doe is gone leaf fluttering shuddering free falling in love with the trees new calendar… flipping through the seasons sunflower… to see god's face and live
Jesus Chameleon
he grand cattail plants in marshy swamps yield useful resources born from tradition sweeter than its sweetest roots
distant city noise behind a needy man's flat cries of school kids sound like waves crashing on coral rock as I sleep
lonely wind between tall buildings air whistles at high pitches that sound like the song of heavenly angels
Ben Moeller-Gaa evening rain the emptiness of the old cat’s bed atop the telephone pole a morning dove keeps calling after the storm grass rising through the fallen fence before the storm the thunder of lawnmowers grandpa’s bible the verses he underlined the verses he didn’t the silence between bursts of air conditioning walking in the park the familiar faces of strangers heckled by starlings over breakfast a red tailed hawk last light of day the biker band plays a ballad the pause before the light turns green i become a deer
DJ Tyrer
Heat mars evening Comfort, coolness, both absent Wish winter’s return
A persistent cough Staccato splutters on bus Vehicle rattles Passengers turn heads away Disgust mingling with their shame
Syria Plaything of the world Season after season dies Still no end in sight Power politics and drones People form a human tide
Jennifer Hambrick
heat wave even the squirrel lies still turtles on a log stare into the doctor’s waiting room the neighbor’s recycling bin won’t fit in his overstuffed garage power walk – stopping for a snail on the gravel path hairstylist nattering on about being an introvert should i take the job or not? window frost after the funeral the dog barks at the wind Grand Tetons – memories of adolescence double choir – morning birds harmonize with their echoes tanning with the grass in summer sun
Anthony Rabang first summer rain earthy smell wraps the nipa hut
harvest moon a golden apple snail reveals itself
Valentine’s my date emerges on a potter’s wheel
silent night the only thing that resounds my voice
heavy after today's toil
the old farmer marks his calendar strawberry moon
my beaming face every morning sunrise
Lavana Kray
I feel like an invertible device in your hand… the sand is stuck in the hourglass’ neck
Children around the monk… they ask him how can wild mint be tamed?
The train conflates different shadows in a single one; the scent of a lost scarff woos butterflies
The wheat field smell sweeter on a hot day ; I change my t-shirt with the scarecrow's
Christina Sng
hollow reed drifting in the river how I meander through life
why we hurt the ones we love butterworts
wild flowers packing away the remnants of my youth
harvest season weight of the world on me
rolling hills the shoulder ache that won’t go away
dark clouds trying to find the silver lining
when everything is broken baby’s breath
Christina Sng
SCREAM IN THE GARDEN Scream in the garden! My girl comes running. "Small bug," she admits, with a sheepish look then a cheeky smile.
LOVE "I have too much love so I must give some away,� said Jade, as I kissed her good night at bedtime one day.
TEN YEARS Ten years I wrapped you both In my arms as we slept You dreamt of milk And beautiful worlds You constructed yourself
Richard Stevenson
first cup of coffee— wake of a speed boat unzips the bay
no scarf, no pipe? even our snowman has quit!?
“Deer Resistant” the garden centre sign says Alas, deer don’t read
half a world away our daughter Skypes to show us her new tattoo
the price of freedom? on the back of his neck a bar code tattoo
depressing the way the St. John’s Wort takes over the flower bed
Anna Goluba Jazzy time... Drops of sound Lighten the night
Foggy twilight... Today slowly Becomes a memory
Full Moon In the lamplight A closed book
Closure... I write a letter I'm not going to send
As I click on them For a moment They become alive... Fashion models On a website
Hot air trembles Changing all the shapes So I can only guess What's getting closer to me... My future lover Or just another phantom
Joy McCall
The Stream she sits on the riverbank weeping the water flowing by pays her no mind there is a loneliness in rivers they never stop long to speak or sing they flow on called by the sea their master the unfathomable mysterious deep she thinks of asking the riverman take me downstream that I may find my lost dreams in the end she stays on the bank as the boats go by and river-birds, and hours and days and years
Joyce Joslin Lorenson
earthy autumn scents repeating drum roll of a pileated woodpecker
silent winging of swallows leaves banked against the abandoned barn
shattering a dream the unsweetened song of a coyote
garden ripe the low drag of a woodchuck's belly
murmuring twist of migrating birds night deepens
free blowing summer's chaff the horse's impatient stomp
Margaret Owen Ruckert
a lone lizard sits among the flowers its dainty feet with exquisite toes— I recognise the pattern
more grubs on the coriander I’ve nurtured from last year’s seeds— my dreams eat me away
marching sideways my cucumber vine with spiky leaves formidable thirst an unlikely conqueror
my climbing vine has grown cucumbers by the kilo now I watch the leaves grey – so this is old age
late shadows tattoo the footpath where I walk pushing my body against the stamp of age
Margaret Owen Ruckert
on my arm a grasshopper jumping green— my new shoots after retirement
wild storm clouds tear across the sky threatening rain and when they depart threatening sunshine
enjoy a cruise around the harbour snap all the sights but have you really captured the forty-plus day
to be or not to be partners in a wireless generation is not in question
as we approach a heritage area out of wifi range everyone is making one last connection
Dave Read
morning train the steady hum of small talk
old fence the neighbour's shadow crosses our yard
dream of flight I spread the wings of my hammock
sundown an overripe mango falls from its tree
rain drops a wheel barrow fills with rust
a puddle the sun drys its reflection
Dave Read
cracked ice the river opens moonlight
nightfall in the window her reflection
finger paint sunlight spreads across her shirt
southern breeze the curve of a grass blade weighted with seed
Madhuri Pillai
breathing sunshine the cat on the fence if only... he turns away from the window and licks his paw
pallid sky in winter hues on the barren tree belting out the blues the magpie songstress
the dog walker under her frayed hat her cherry lipstick the random cafe poet we cheer on saturday nights
solitude in the amber glow of the lamp only the muted taps on the IPad as the poem unfurls
saturday night sneaking in from over the fence the strains of a song tripping down the memory lane recapturing a faded youth
Madhuri Pillai
juicing... the slow trickle of liquid amber in the winter garden the citrus tree's orange glow
her fortieth she blows out the candles a silent tear was it yesterday she held my hand on her way to school..
dog park weaving through the leaves a moonlit breeze as we turn towards home a kookaburra farewells
Judit Katalin Hollรณs
raindrops on barbed wire the opalescent rhythm of mortality
corn silk moon a new layer of grey in my hair
last chemo a spoonbill grazes mist over the pond
shooting stars fade into dreams on my eyelids flying solo feathers flake off one by one the swan maiden inside me
Debbie Strange
believing you were my bellwether I followed every footstep sinking deeper into the mire
where are you my fair-weather friend have you left for sunnier climes, grown weary of my rain
at the first slow swell of violins these tears that seep into my mouth and quench my thirst
inheriting her jewellery chest I wonder about the secrets she had yet to tell
calluses on my fingertips musical scars that bleed every time I strum our duet
Debbie Strange
at the base of this volcano cinnabar our pilgrim cheeks blaze with revelation
don't sell me anti-ageing creams the lines upon this canvas my life's masterstrokes
over time every mountain sinks back into the ocean as must we all
Tom Sacramona
sweeping up the onion skin layer looks at me
abstraction in black & whitenothing is black and white
two of the leaves become butterflies, they all do
feeding deer a monarch butterfly through the fence
the bee's shadow hole in the ozone layer
buck moon the blue and unripe tomatoes
Keitha Keyes
in hospital the zombie hours of sleeplessness are filled with germs of new ideas for tanka
with the dawn I peg out my problems one by one ... as the line begins to sag I need to find another prop
I’ll remember your smile of yesterday fly little sparrow fly
will it be thumbs up or thumbs down for my submission‌ this gladiator waiting
Keitha Keyes
Sex Matters their love just now consummated a redback sacrifices himself for her eating pleasure I find out some Indonesian boats are male or female … the more I want to write the more there is to learn about
In Vogue tucking my trouser legs into my socks — not a fashion statement survival with a puppy the young tourist with his head shaven except for a topknot — fashion with a twist
Keitha Keyes
Cruising a dandelion frolics on the deck of our ship and lands on the bar — I make a toast to gypsies sunbathers beside the pool turn over to do the other side ‌ medium rare
Steve Black
the fallout after the storm the new fence already higher
asleep under a tree i can think of no place better plenty worse
looking at it from her side the cracks she could no longer ignore
shuffling in slippers the rain soaking through down to the shop arcade for my daily bread to a soundtrack not my own
Steve Black
the train I didn't see coming on request no flowers
money for nothing if you ask me my fellow devotee mutters under his breath in the meditation class
separate lives after love he rolls away from himself
Valentina Ranaldi-Adams
a maiden with cascading hair dances in the photograph a matron with thinning hair remembers
stars shine far from artificial lights secret lovers
summer solstice a strawberry moon towing expectations
bouncing ball her emotions rise and fall
garbage truck remnants of problems hauled away
Guliz Mutlu
Once alone‌ I like mondays and cherry red
the chestnut tree mom back home in the rain
a handful of stars the clouds rolling but not for me
summer rain I weep for me right on time
Robert Witmer
origami class Issa's fly in funhouse mirrors
the wild birds turn and go over her grave a cypress stands alone
her smile through the window new moon
a clap of thunder pollywogs wiggle in dark water
midday sun black-bladed shadows cleave back into their trees
atop a skyscraper a crane suspends the full moon
Marilyn Fleming
black keys on a white picket fence the spaces where finger-like tendrils of wisteria play
river stones sinking to the bottom see no reflection the mirror turned backwards she thinks I’m her mother
a ragged red fox fleeing the hen house— our bandanas when I was Gene Autry and you were Roy Rogers
song sparrows scavenging for crumbs— street music passersby linger drop coins in the hat
water lily asleep beneath the ice cracks at the mouth her breath mists the air— spring’s promise snaggletoothed
Marilyn Fleming
cat in my lap I sit on the porch— sun squatting low the blink of an eye turns day inside out
how the willows bend while weeping —manic wind
parting the blinds —all the stars between her lashes
afternoon sun turning cartwheels windmill shadows
her empty bed left undone— new moon
Mark Gilbert Thud with a twist of the wrist you pluck a pear from the tree then a thud as another one drops and another birthday forgotten
Patio a copper leaf spins around stainless steel chair legs, settles in the dead spot where the cigarette butts come to rest
this boulder has crashed onto the heather like an old sedan from the last ice age
polling day poplar leaves are falling
inkmarksonpaper no advertising in these three lines
badger's corpse slumped across the dotted white line in/out referendum
Leonardo Lazzari
autumn evening the sound of rain is a lullaby
Martha Magenta
I remember our last goodbye on the beach how your footprints filled with rain
the jasmine spreads over the garden with abandon my hair unfurls unrestrained on your pillow without you
drawn to your scent I linger in your caress and wonder will I disappear if you stop dreaming me
training corps marking time with style blue mink stockings bomber jacket, skirt we made love not war
you call me from the far east this day I watch a leaf fall from your tree
I try to put the words of the wind in my poem this windswept place reminds me of you
Martha Magenta
the life buoy detached from its moorings frolicking in the waves we catch and return it to its chain wondering if we could feel so free
dream of a cuckoo calling my heart an empty nest since you left
sometimes a shimmer on the stair a trace of your scent lingers in my memory and fills the air I breathe
crows caw announcing the day in the stark dawn light my soul lingers with you your memory follows behind me
John Han
spring rain… the clarity of a rose petal’s veins rice-planting season the frogs silenced by nightly rain
a lesion found there rises a legion of thoughts
hotel insomnia traffic noise interrupted by a crow a bird lands on the podium all smile even the opponents war front above the grenades Dora The Explorer morning mist the futility of writing a death haiku reclining Buddha… I take a pill of Melatonin fat Buddha’s smile— mom and her baby girl take a selfie dog barking words spoken in tongues
Ivan Randall
first snow creates a dreamlike landscape the rocking horse cowboy rides
splendid night tide surging against the reef vivid memories of being nursed in my mother's arms
winter moon coping with grief spooked by a thumping heart the herd stampedes buffalo jump
wings beat for millennia... the fluttering of her hummingbird heart
swamp harrier spotted hovering over the freshwater marsh feeding moorhens scramble for cover in the reeds and grasses
ornate lorikeet born at the edge of the rainforest I remember the lines on Nona's careworn face & her love of ornithology
Ivan Randall
ten days outbound the girl crew members go topless seabirds grow fewer spellbound, we change course for some mythical isle
birdsong drifts across the lake through the morning mist... dreams of flying
cool Baguio noon trash scattered along the green slopes
Theresa A. Cancro
leaves falling in afternoon sunlight – oboe solo
shadows among broken antlers – winter sunset
scent of snow – the silence of a birch forest
summer shower – the clatter of prayer beads against the pew
old friends catching up on the porch a katydid chorus
newspaper left on a park bench – raindrops fading
a swallowtail brushes my hand – wedding ring shadow
Theresa A. Cancro
baby toes – an African violet outgrows its pot
fall morning – a sparrow picks seed from my footprint
sun shafts – our toothbrushes lined up together
Susan Burch
Fired from Home Depot for a tattoo of ISIS on his lipinked four years ago the name of his ex joining him outside she tries to hold his hand but he pulls away her touch sandpaper on his skin dragged up a tree by a leopard the atheist who suddenly believes in hell putting glass shards inside my bound feet step by step I hobble towards your ideal beauty on the anniversary of your death, I draw a chalk outline – your heart inside mine unable to sleep I try to diagnose all my aches and pains worse than a nightmare all the possibilities… finally deleting the emails I saved from Faith – for 6 years I thought our friendship wasn’t over…
Collaborative Poems
the bridge
on the bridge dropping Pooh-sticks into the stream part child, part woman : the river between the banks the skipping stone hits the farther bank – someday I too will cross the bridge, enter the forever wood
the stone
in the clutch of oak roots a sunken tombstone with my name – the expiration date blurred here in these woods a broken lichened stone ... now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace
the slipper a damp patch wild mushrooms and nettles gather sticks and light the fire I'm hungry a lady’s slipper in utter solitude I pause, would linger long, but I’ve a chore to do
Larry Kimmell & Joy McCall
the charm damping down the fire sitting against an oak my hand settles on moss and earth and ... a dirty old coin an ancient loss our good luck charm on this forest trek the only coinage flint for fire, the skill to use it
the voice grey as bark the strange owl blinks and disappears – tree speaks and we are spell bound what voice is this -- who steals my gold? a sudden chill rises from the ground blood runs cold
the unspeakable it is best to turn away and not look back there are pale lights dancing up ahead to advance or to hide – what would the night creatures do ? the owl, the fox, the shape-shifters, the unspeakables
Larry Kimmell & Joy McCall
wintergreen crawling through inky-dark underbrush, the scent of wintergreen – teaberries! for herbal tea we stuff our pockets with leaves by the night-fire the heavy pot rainwater berries and sugar fermenting ... oh, breathe deep!
grace the fallow doe comes closer, stepping from the brush out of the shadows sniffing the air silently following her cream-draped fawn – at a nothing they dart away such grace always just beyond our grasp
cool water dawn – we have come through the night, we drink cool water from cupped hands a golden fish watching us glides away slow into the reeds bubbles rise
Larry Kimmell & Joy McCall
the light walking away again that uneasy sense we have missed the thing that matters the guiding light the path forks – we stand where others have stood before – what say you—right to the heart of the forest dark ?
broken doll deep in the forest a boot print and a broken doll is there nowhere someone hasn’t been before me ? the cracked doll still cries 'mama' and up ahead heavy footfalls stop and turn back
running, hiding shaking off the cobwebs and moss and empty fears I run ahead calling - come! making myself slender as a sapling I hide crossing my fingers that no bogey man appears
Larry Kimmell & Joy McCall
snagged look! that bit of red yarn snagged on the iron weed thorns – haven’t we been here before ? going round in circles we gather the purple flowers to leave a trail
lost I will mend my skirt when we get home the jagged tear reminds us pay attention to the path when we get home? at this rate we’ll be lucky to find a gingerbread house
Larry Kimmell & Joy McCall
guppies enough about sex oh but the colour of those flirting tails
still fireplace death is not the end smoke rising, a slow prayer to the moon feet up in the recliner time trickles away turning the hourglass beginning again all week the sun she waited for bedridden he opens the window lets the light in
caramel vista you can't always take language literally blueberry sky vodka over ice (blueberry sky is a rock group and a brand of vodka) Robert Epstein & Joy McCall
Pilgrim’s Way first rays of sun, on the monastery steps a blue-tongued lizard
slippered feet cross worn stones flickering shadows outdoor shrine… on the raked gravel random footprints
voices singing songs of praise … pilgrims passing
meditating ... the flapping flight of cormorants
Samantha Sirimanne Hyde & Marilyn Humbert
Icarus
blessed by twin moons his ship soars ... Icarus glides the stellar-stream
history echoes solar wings spread star questing to escape the labyrinth of my ancient race
he follows the comet’s tail mapping worlds ringed with ice beneath a red-eyed sun
knowingly fingers of knowledge dance across the controls ‌ a master of cosmography
he is a sailor, explorer, mathematician in the void his voice sings hymns of divine numbers
Marilyn Humbert & Andrew Howe
heat rising shivers set in my nose runs faster than an athlete towards the finish
constant motion of feet in dawn light racing sunrise for that elusive prize – accolades of a nation
driven to succeed for all brings pleasure – expectations of many prove positive
yesterday I was the leader of the pack … now bureaucracy hounds my heels
sniffing blood in the water surrounded sanctuary no longer – career suffocated
Frances Carleton & Marilyn Humbert
red and gone
from a distance rain dripping from eaves silently in the heart it's another matter listening to the church bell striking midnight my soul rises from sleep and comes to sit with you
sitting above, on the ceiling waiting she whispers, it will come dear heart, it will come
so small the pale feathers drifting down so quiet the song 'someday my peace'
a song of so many words rising harmonic wings red, red and gone
Don Wentworth & Joy McCall
painting
white suds over cast iron pans from the window watching what looks to be my life in technicolor
green moss on the patio bricks the softening of my own sharp edges
new moon: smell of freesia smell of lichen reclining on the veranda with coffee
yellow sun is rising, not me I'm setting my weary head down to day dream
edge of midnight thin sliver of a May moon crash of waves against the coast
all these colours running together let the picture paint itself .. all will be well
Matsukaze & Murasame
a scattering of seeds
the ancient smiles of my Sami ancestors just like hers kinfolk, down the ages over the high seas the bond of sisterhood not in our genes but in the songspun helices of words hearing the music of circling spheres far far away and deep within me a high sweet singing a lifetime seeking those tiny voices calling me further into the wood . . . sunbeams in an empty glade slowly the toadstools come up from the peat as always, circling pale and wan and silent I lie on a bed of moss beside the brook . . . eye-to-eye with water seeking a way to the sea Basho's frog jumps water-splash on my face I close my eyes and I'm far away among the tall dark pines
squirrels scattering seeds across the earth kith and kin in root and branch
Joy McCall & Jenny Ward Angyal
pulling together
to weave a new garment first unravel the threads of the old my old cloak hangs in tatters about me— the texture of time, the holes left by love patching my skirt with handkerchiefs from Japan the old poet keeping me tidy 'what doesn't kill you . . .' said Dad, mixing fiberglass resin . . . the old Morris Minor more rust than car
Claire Everett, Jenny Ward Angyal, Joy McCall
Sunday afternoons playing hide and seek I always choose the attic room you always find me
I hear them play down dark stairs another land late night card games were not for us
hard to recall the old campsite harder still to recall the way her touch made me feel
making us glow orange canvas in midday sun his shadow falls pulls me away
so many tracks through forest pines whichever one I take
my destination is the same Skeleton Wood
finding wild orchids in the copse behind our close we knelt down discovery came before understanding Tim Gardiner & Alexandra Davis
Haiga Section
Elizabeth Alford
Elizabeth Alford
Elizabeth Alford
Debbie Strange
Debbie Strange
Debbie Strange
Mark Gilbert
Mark Gilbert
Ernesto P Santiago
Ernesto P Santiago
Ernesto P Santiago
Joyce Joslin Lorenson
Joyce Joslin Lorenson
Joyce Joslin Lorenson
Marietta Jane McGregor
All our words and all our thoughts unite in poems In such a heart as this all things can be overcome.
Steve Wilkinson