Bryan Rickert

becoming autumn 

the heron

still blue

—Bryan Rickert

stout beer

  not too warm

    not too cool

      this autumn night

—Bryan Rickert

Samo Kreutz

marian altar ...

the rising shadows

of a wax scent

—Samo Kreutz 

Ephemerae, a haibun by Colleen M. Farrelly

I amble the beach as waves fall and rise and fall again. The wind whips at my down jacket and shifts the sand dunes across a worn pebble path we walked as children. I haven’t been back since her wake but find myself at her favorite dock.

guy rope

her hand steadies

my heartbeat

Jonash Lepcha

winter warmth...

the déjà vu 

of summer's chill

—Jonash Lepcha

Mohua Maulik

sipping chai

i sway to the rhythm

of oldies

the whiplash when you slip

in a let’s break up

—Mohua Maulik

Sheza T

psithurism

the two friends

part ways

—Sheza T

Dust, a haibun by Tim Dwyer

I’ve been thinking about a friend I haven’t seen for forty years. One New Year’s Eve when we were in our twenties, we drank wine, played backgammon and told stories late into the night. She shared one about her Japanese mother at the start of a new year. She was sweeping last year’s dust out the front door, and suddenly froze in place.

stray cat

the green eyes

of grandfather

Alvin B. Cruz

full moon

the last sleeping pill

in the bottle

—Alvin B. Cruz

Stephanie Zepherelli

broken buddha

in the graveyard 

tulips blooming

—Stephanie Zepherelli

Wendy Cobourne

your last words murmuring night rain

—Wendy Cobourne

Steliana Cristina Voicu

Christmas morning—

on the fridge door

my sister's ultrasound

—Steliana Cristina Voicu

dimineaţă de Crăciun -

pe uşa frigiderului

ecografia surorii mele

—Steliana Cristina Voicu

Unheard Story, tanka prose by Bhawana Rathore

It's almost past midnight. With the soft tick-tick of the clock in my room and the faint, distant music from outside, I somehow like this moment. Now that nights have grown colder and quieter, and the breeze is crisp, I can even listen to the tree in our backyard.  And I'm inclined to believe my thoughts are being heard too. 

The rustle of a page turning echoes in the room. I set the book aside to look outside again, to hear the tree. Somehow I remember the books in my wishlist, although many on the bookshelf still sit unread, waiting to be opened. 

Yet I seek a new adventure in this mundane and cold night perhaps the darkness reveals its own story too, and it is for me to find mine. 

soft glow

of the streetlamp

in the misty night. . .

the immersion

in our lost sighs

 

Aleksandra Rybczyńska

 passerby's smile

dark thoughts

fly away

—Aleksandra Rybczyńska

harvest time

the village waits

for grandma's dinner

—Aleksandra Rybczyńska

A Dear Habit of Living, a haibun by Alex Drogin

We get very sunny winters here in Providence, which you were always noticing. I've begun picking up on it too. But the light is thin, empty. It doesn't weigh on your back like the sun in New York; it dances, it sings, it whips with the wind which we had also always seen. When it grows too weak the night settles in. Dark chills slip past my walls and through my bedsheets and, without fail, I think of you, though only because I have no one else to think of. 

on the nightstand

dust

and a box of tissues

Every night is the same; frost seeps in from the windowpane, moonlight thins on the ceiling. Eventually I fall asleep. Last night I met someone in a cramped kitchen with big eyes and pretty lips. She made me think of you - she left, as did everyone else, as did I. In the morning the sun fell lightly across my room, as it always does, bringing little warmth. I've been thinking of you less. I'm sure you have too.

dusk

my broken radiator

hissing affirmations

Marie Derley

ants in the greenhouse 

in the crowded subway

I am the smallest

 

fourmis dans la serre 

dans le métro bondé

je suis la plus petite

—Marie Derley 

*

 

small regrets

a boy throwing pebbles

in the lake

 

petits regrets

un garçon lance des cailloux

dans le lac

—Marie Derley

Luciana Moretto

short days...

running out of

things to say

—Luciana Moretto

Pitt Büerken

such wispy fingers 

my granddaughter 

just born; 

and she really 

looks like me  

—Pitt Büerken

falling darkness... 

left lonely on the playground 

a doll

—Pitt Büerken

Randy Brooks

clear winter night

the train horning its way

through town

—Randy Brooks

Martina Matijević

game night 

aunt no longer plays 

memory cards

—Martina Matijević

history lesson— 

heal hatred 

then spread it

—Martina Matijević

Anne Fox

dusty road

her poetry book

back on the shelf

—Anne Fox

Richard E Schell

first date

she chooses the seat

nearest the exit

—Richard E Schell

quiet bedroom

the dust 

on the crib

—Richard E Schell

Patricia Hawkhead

dinner table talk

about our future

crossed fingers

—Patricia Hawkhead

 

sky pollution

we both dream

of lost stars

—Patricia Hawkhead

Oscar Luparia

jisei book

learning to write

the last page

—Oscar Luparia

winter wind

the leaves can't choose

where to fall

—Oscar Luparia

Rohan Buettel

roos sprawled

in winter sun —

watching cyclists

—Rohan Buettel

uber driver 

a new father

shows me photos

—Rohan Buettel

a clearing

in the dense forest —

bald spot

—Rohan Buettel

Shyla Davis

hunting time

deeper burrows 

in stubble fields

—Shyla Davis

Threshold, a haibun by Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

A prolonged cold draught of air from the AC blows on my face. The constant light of the phone screen has left me with dry eyes. Conversations feel like a wheel of fortune about to tumble over. The stillness of the evening yawning into a night brings with it a range of memories. I indulge in work. After a sustained period of activity, just this will to lie motionless…

autumn dusk 

a hedgehog shuffles

through leaves

Perspective, a haibun by Neha Singh Soni

Some mornings it feels as if all the moments have been written, every emotion explored, every leaf already turned brown in someone else's poem, every full moon and every flicker of stars has been captured in three succinct lines.

Then, on the very same day, something shifts and I end up discovering an aha moment, that is unmistakably, undeniably mine. 

3 a.m.

my husband stirs

at the click of my pen

Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

back home

the firm green

of mangoes 

—Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

wildflowers the ruddiness of her laughter

—Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

Sam Cassidy

butterflies

the obsessions we had

as kids 

—Sam Cassidy

Chen-ou Liu

alone again

on a seaside bench

tides of childhood

lap against memory

in the quiet of my mind

—Chen-ou Liu

Thomas David

 mountain echo

your voice 

inside my head

—Thomas David

cemetery walk 

remembering 

the forgotten

—Thomas David

Monica Kakkar

tea and sympathy...

mirroring my mood

monsoon

—Monica Kakkar

Nicoletta Ignatti

foggy night— 

just hello 

my father's speech

—Nicoletta Ignatti

Tilted, tanka prose by C.X. Turner

The morning enters in fragments. Stripes of brightness, flickering beside shadows. At first, I mistake the darker bands for truth, my words thinning as they scatter.

A figure hunched in the chair shifts my pens, moves the steel cup, later telling me I misremembered. Shadows spread across every surface until the only way to stop their pull is to close my eyes.

A click of the front door. The air stays heavy, unmoving. My breath stumbles, chest tight, the walls still leaning in. An echo from the recorder, my voice looping back, flat and practiced.

Slowly, the space begins to widen. The room steadies. Light presses through the narrow gaps, enough to hold my outline.

first frost

the weight of berries

on an uncut hedge

a rook turns its head

towards the unsettled sky

Jharna Sanyal

hooting owl 

in my soup

a dash of dawn

—Jharna Sanyal

Jacek Margolak

cancer remission

only December maples

so bald

—Jacek Margolak

Bona M. Santos

gloaming

what may be 

my last autumn sea

—Bona M. Santos

Thompson Emate

still with me

in an envelope

my grandmother

—Thompson Emate

Chad Lee Robinson

memory care garden . . .

a firefly

just out of reach

—Chad Lee Robinson

Thomas Landgraf

4am

one of the sounds

a magpie

—Thomas Landgraf

Jerome Berglund

first quarter 

the moon

is an alms dish

—Jerome Berglund

Bryan Rickert

motherless

I let the fawn

have the garden

—Bryan Rickert

Susan Burch

birdfeedercam 

only the rain 

comes to visit

—Susan Burch

the cardinal agrees talk is cheep

—Susan Burch

giving birth 

another pink flower 

in the flowerbed

—Susan Burch

 

Susan Lee Roberts

violets in the window

the scent

of grandma

—Susan Lee Roberts

 

Haiga by Milan Rajkumar

 

Ravi Kiran

home from work

the language

of a tail

—Ravi Kiran

Mona Bedi

bonsai garden

mother much shorter

than before

—Mona Bedi

Thomas L. Vaultonburg

quiet street

a leaf and I

cross together

—Thomas L. Vaultonburg

Alvin B. Cruz

you said your love would last plastic roses

—Alvin B. Cruz

Louise Hopewell

making a wish

on a dandelion blowball

DNA test

—Louise Hopewell

Patrick Sweeney

he's the one who wouldn't look the pallbearers in the eye

—Patrick Sweeney

Françoise Maurice

sharp frost

the quick jolts

of the beggar

—Françoise Maurice

Faith Denise Morales

the sea is a dream—

it swallows and releases,

no hesitation.

some days i envy the tide

for knowing when to return.

—Faith Denise Morales

Sherry Reniker

picking you

from the sprawl—

baby pictures

—Sherry Reniker

Nina Kovačić

crater...

the rain washes a doll

without both legs

—Nina Kovačić

Laurinda Lind

fourth commandment whatever it was i broke it

—Laurinda Lind

Susan King

morning walk—

dogs with winter coats

better than mine

—Susan King

Dennis Owen Frohlich

father-son carpentry

one 30-minute mistake

after another

—Dennis Owen Frohlich

Darrell Lindsey

hand in hand

under a double rainbow

the storm passed through

all but forgotten

except for our muddy shoes

—Darrell Lindsey

Marie Derley

vieille photo d’été –

quand ma pauvre mère

me tapait sur les nerfs

old summer photo –

when my poor mother

used to get on my nerves

—Marie Derley

Manasa Reddy Chichili

spring moon 

father's laugh

some where

—Manasa Reddy Chichili

Sathya Venkatesh

my toddler

at the school gate...

I cry more

—Sathya Venkatesh

Lakshman Bulusu

midnight 

to morning

the half-moon

chiaroscuro      

of my dreams

—Lakshman Bulusu

Wendy Cobourne

plein air

she dips her brush

in deep summer

—Wendy Cobourne

Mohua Maulik

roller coaster ride

never again she swears

in the labor room

—Mohua Maulik

Jagajit Salam

 barren fields–

the shepherd's song

and silence

—Jagajit Salam

tangled roots–

clinging to the walls

of a broken home

—Jagajit Salam

north wind–

the silent hills

ripple with falcons

—Jagajit Salam

Hifsa Ashraf

divorce day—  

mold on the bread

getting darker

—Hifsa Ashraf

Robert Witmer

sleeping

against a wall

homeless shadows

—Robert Witmer

Randy Brooks

drive-in theater

we never watched the movie

until we had kids

—Randy Brooks

Urszula Marciniak

waiting

the young boy tries to count 

snowflakes

—Urszula Marciniak

oczekiwanie

młody chłopiec próbuje policzyć

płatki śniegu

—Urszula Marciniak

Haiga by Manasa Reddy Chichili

 

Art & haiku by Manasa Reddy Chichili

Chen-ou Liu

a girl in red

silhouetted against the glow

of a streetlight

the spark of her cigarette

deepens this winter night

—Chen-ou Liu

my mind

straddled between cliché

and half-baked idea …

suddenly a burst 

of skylark song

—Chen-ou Liu

John Hawkhead

wilting tree

white branches stretch out

round her belly

—John Hawkhead

M. R. Pelletier

pine grove

each needle

points the way

—M. R. Pelletier

Joanna Ashwell

morning rooster

the repetition

of rainfall

—Joanna Ashwell

Tejendra Sherchan

inspiring me

to live no matter what

morning glories

—Tejendra Sherchan

Lev Hart

hand in hand

the quarrel continued

in our heads

—Lev Hart

Bryan Rickert

first frost

the suddenness 

of no birdsong

—Bryan Rickert

deep woods

     deer tails

          leap away

—Bryan Rickert

Srinivasa Rao Sambangi

graveside walk

the dog and I

pull each other

—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi

John J. Dunphy

nursing home dad waters his dead plant —John J. Dunphy

Sharon Ferrante

picking my donuts the clerk calls me sugar 

—Sharon Ferrante

Doug Sylver

waning crescent

the croissant next

to my latte

—Doug Sylver

female cardinal

resplendent in red

sings a sermon

—Doug Sylver

Belinda Behne

late night concert

crickets

walk me home

—Belinda Behne

Susan Burch

empty nest 

no more monkeys 

jumping on the bed

—Susan Burch

Adrian Bouter

carehome 

I help her into her 

warmest cardigan

—Adrian Bouter

Alvin B. Cruz

autumn stars

what counts

in the end

—Alvin B. Cruz

 

funeral walk

everyone going

to the same place

—Alvin B. Cruz

hospice room

the old clock

stops ticking

—Alvin B. Cruz

Thomas Landgraf

train window...

city lights streak across

my reflection

—Thomas Landgraf

Nicholas Gentile

spring's warm dusk

children's laughter—

the last flicker of the day

caught

in a jar

—Nicholas Gentile

Bipasha Majumder (De)

mom's teeth

I can hear the voice

of yellow leaves

—Bipasha Majumder (De)

Haiga, by Janet Ruth

 

Anthony Ward

windfall apples the suspense of promises

—Anthony Ward

Ravi Kiran

retired tenor

the reverb

in his yawn

—Ravi Kiran

Tony Williams

scars on his shins

the blind man’s

tattoos

—Tony Williams

Suzanne Leaf-Brock

blind date

the slight smile

at her fortune cookie

—Suzanne Leaf-Brock

Nivy N

return trip—

2 passengers and 

a coffin 

—Nivy N

 

Anne Fox

river blues

the ever-changing moods

of sky

—Anne Fox

Haiga, by Josiah & Nitu Yumnam

 

Steliana Cristina Voicu

gran's tales with rose jam bring another chair 

—Steliana Cristina Voicu

poveștile bunicii 

cu dulceață de trandafiri

aduc un alt scaun

—Steliana Cristina Voicu

Lavana Kray

belated news—

mom's flowers

warmer than her hands

—Lavana Kray

Mark Forrester

mother’s china cabinet

still rattling

in another house

—Mark Forrester

Michael Battisto

climbing the trail

we used to hike together—

evening mist

falls as rain

beneath the pine trees

—Michael Battisto

Pitt Büerken

autonomous car

the driver’s hands folded

in prayer

—Pitt Büerken

retirement home

the newcomer gets used 

to brown bread

—Pitt Büerken

Joshua St. Claire

first bare branch

there I am

singing again

—Joshua St. Claire

Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

pencil sketch—

the grey of her hair

black

—Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

Gareth Nurden

the wish

i can't let slip

garden weeds

—Gareth Nurden

Jonathan English

blossoming 

in a thousand flights 

bluebird song

—Jonathan English

Amber Winter

hayride 

seeing him with her 

corn smut

—Amber Winter

Monica Kakkar

dining deck . . .

adding to the din

cicada chorus 

—Monica Kakkar

Nancy Brady

birdsong...

coaxing the night

into day

—Nancy Brady

Joanna Ashwell

falling leaves              

lost in the margins

of sunset

—Joanna Ashwell

 

Chen-ou Liu

in late night chill

these rusting staples

on a bulletin board

below the missing puppies

a missing pink-haired teen

—Chen-ou Liu

unpacking

boxes in a dusty corner

of the attic ...

faded photos buried deep 

in my immigrant heart

—Chen-ou Liu

Stephanie Zepherelli

dry cornfields 

the cold shoulders

of scarecrows

—Stephanie Zepherelli

a late farewell

lilies on her grave

still blooming

—Stephanie Zepherelli

Senka Slivar

tiny flowers

by the chardak’s fence

from its shade

red roses climbing

to her window

—Senka Slivar

 

(A chardak is a traditional Balkan wooden house.) 

tall grasses—

sweet promises

of a lover

gnarled boughs of a fig tree

bearing fruit in silence

—Senka Slivar

Richard E Schell

the old dog

still guarding the yard

from passing clouds

—Richard E Schell

Kathryn Haydon

a study 

in greens

august ravine

—Kathryn Haydon

Randy Brooks

church couple

the one in the coffin

more outgoing

—Randy Brooks

Zuzanna Truchlewska

morning yoga –

all thoughts concentrated

in one dewdrop

—Zuzanna Truchlewska

Mohua Maulik

petrichor

the room overflowing

with his laughter

—Mohua Maulik

Bryan Rickert

alone on this trail all of us

—Bryan Rickert

sun on my back

the intensity

of locust song

—Bryan Rickert

Tea Swamp Park, a haibun by Isabella Mori

Each day I get closer to the swamp that used to be where I live now. Over 170 years ago, the land that had been home for 10,000 years to the Musqueam, Squamish and Tsleil-Waututh was “no longer considered to belong to them.”  

There’s a little commemorative park now, the size of two big lots, and in it the creek that used to run through the whole city is outlined by rocks for about fifty feet. A coffee shop sits where the beaver dam used to be that created the swamp.

And each day, the waters of the creek that somehow still run underneath whisper to me louder. Each day it is easier to imagine the labrador tea plants, or me'xwuchp, which gave the little park its name, still growing all around me.

 

ear to the ground

footsteps echo

from the past

Marie Derley

lime tree samaras

a new father lost

in family life

—Marie Derley

 

samares de tilleul

un nouveau père perdu

dans la vie de famille

—Marie Derley

Joe Wells

change of guard

soldier’s watch returns

in a box

—Joe Wells

Ann Sullivan

October garden a path through dying

—Ann Sullivan

Jamie Wimberly

fall equinox

white band of skin

where the ring was

—Jamie Wimberly

Douglas J. Lanzo

curling into sunset

elephant trunk

tied to mother’s

—Douglas J. Lanzo

Tomislav Maretić

two years on ... on the menu nothing new —Tomislav Maretić

Up in Smoke, a haibun by Robert Witmer

 “For my days are consumed like smoke.”

 

A word collector. Every Sunday at dawn. He carries them away in a battered blue van. Just the man who collects them, not those who dispose. However they do. A furnace. A landfill. Each one a snowflake in a winter’s tale. The mystery of rhyme. Hymns like hoar-frost hanging on the trees. The breath of spirits dreams are made on. Puffs of smoke that rise like wisps of larks, whispering to the clouds, twisting to the stars. Blank verse.

 

abandoned school

chalk dust

the teacher’s words

Working..., a haibun by Antonio Mangiameli

I was called for a consultation in an intensive care unit, I visit the patient, prescribe tests and say I‘ll return tomorrow to re-evaluate. I'll come back if the patient is still here. 

    flower stand —

    all the lilies 

    sold 

Alvin B. Cruz

 grief the length of a summer rainbow

—Alvin B. Cruz

Sharon Ferrante

midnight crickets getting louder my weeping 

—Sharon Ferrante

Louise Hopewell

first light

mist curls through

wattle blossoms

—Louise Hopewell

Nicoletta Ignatti

the gossip

at her wedding –

 croaking crows

—Nicoletta Ignatti

Boryana Boteva

L for Love

the missing key 

of the typewriter 

—Boryana Boteva

Neena Singh

after our quarrel

the dog chooses 

     his side

—Neena Singh

John Hawkhead

ghost moon

over silent snow

the slow fall

—John Hawkhead

care home register

no one left to talk to

on the winter beach

—John Hawkhead

Stacy R. Nigliazzo

softly 

this conflagration

of wings

—Stacy R. Nigliazzo

Thomas Landgraf

gong!

Zojo-ji Temple

at twilight

—Thomas Landgraf

Duncan Richardson

outside the café

fake ice cream cone

taller than me

—Duncan Richardson

Wendy Cobourne

bomb rubble

a crack of sunlight

in a child’s eyes

—Wendy Cobourne

Rohan Buettel

tucked in tight

on a cool evening

hibiscus flower

—Rohan Buettel

Ravi Kiran

 the many dialects of silent treatment

—Ravi Kiran 

reunion

my long-term memory

is much better

—Ravi Kiran 

turbulence

the airhostess holds on

to her smile

—Ravi Kiran

late night census

some of the sheep

look familiar

—Ravi Kiran

Jerome Berglund

horns pointed 

toward the sky 

a morning fanfare

—Jerome Berglund

Anirudh Acharya

candlelit dinner—

needing a phone light 

to look at the menu 

—Anirudh Acharya

Jay Friedenberg

cloud gazing

a giraffe becomes

a line of elephants

—Jay Friedenberg

palimpset

a few traces

of his old self

—Jay Friedenberg

Albert Schlaht

summer moon

the path to her

open arms 

—Albert Schlaht

Haiga, by Richard West

 

Hynek Koziol

just a butterfly

the yellow

of leaves 

—Hynek Koziol

autumn crocuses

counting twenty-nine

reasons to be happy

—Hynek Koziol

Lev Hart

 at a glance the hedge stops    cheeping    baby sparrows 

—Lev Hart

afternoon

sun

rock

climbing

beside

a

waterfall

—Lev Hart

searching for clues —

why

did i open this drawer

—Lev Hart

Doug Sylver

old man practicing

tai chi, exhaling years

of smoking

—Doug Sylver

Melissa Laussmann

reminiscing 

places I once called home

autumn drizzle

—Melissa Laussmann

Kavita Ratna

completing

each other’s stories

family-album

—Kavita Ratna

John Pappas

traffic stop

his daughter waves

at passing cars

—John Pappas

moving day

out by the bins

a piece of sky

—John Pappas

night train

waiting on the platform

my reflection

—John Pappas

Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

Diwali lights . . .

you and me

in our shadows

—Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

solitary moon—

the hum

of a singing bowl

—Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

a round-bellied calico—

the birth and death

of generations 

a mother sees

in her lifetime

—Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

Adrian Bouter

no choice

but to ponder...

falling leaves

—Adrian Bouter

October 

a rush of raincoats

to the station

—Adrian Bouter

Urszula Marciniak

cherry blossom petals unblemished on the puddle płatki wiśni pozostają czyste na kałuży —Urszula Marciniak field of barley that rough touch over and over pole jęczmienia tamten szorstki dotyk znowu i znowu —Urszula Marciniak war is over now it's her bringing him roses wojna skończona teraz to ona jemu przynosi róże —Urszula Marciniak English translations by Alexander Daly & Marta Daly.

Tonya Hall

earthquake exposure of family fault lines —Tonya Hall

David Ngo

one more night 

bracing for a storm 

the old tree 

—David Ngo

Bug Logs, a haibun by Colleen M. Farrelly

It’s a three-mile hike to the first entomology site; dawn peaks through the mangrove canopy. A swarm of drywood termites flanks a long-fallen log near the walkway. I jot a quick location note as a faint ocean breeze creaks the branches curving over our bridge like ibis beaks.

 

summer sunrise

a frog croaks

in the heat

Pitt Büerken

history lesson

one war ends

the next one starts

—Pitt Büerken

 

hard times

they plant potatoes

in the front yard

—Pitt Büerken

rain bow

sun above

rain below

—Pitt Büerken

Anthony Lusardi

spring rain

watching fishing videos

when we can’t fish

—Anthony Lusardi

springtime shadow

my niece imagines herself

a giant with long legs

—Anthony Lusardi

Mona Bedi

midnight moon

the lullabies I learn

from the wind

—Mona Bedi

naming the brightest star we give dad a home

—Mona Bedi

Patrick G. Roland

fallen walnut

the worm’s hollow

gone sour

—Patrick G. Roland

Harold Bowes

unable to sleep

he holds onto

his little finger

with all the fingers 

of the other hand

—Harold Bowes

A memory, a haibun by Antonio Mangiameli

I open Facebook as  I usually do every evening after dinner. This time, along with the ads related to my job and interests, I see one that surprises me for today. It reminds me of a gift I gave 10 years ago. 

anniversary—

my wife’s silicone boobs

expire today

Haiga, by Lisa Reynolds & Vivienne Bretherick

 

Text by Lisa Reynolds 

Art by Vivienne Bretherick

Chen-ou Liu

in the mirror

more strands of gray hair

yet in my mind's eye

I catch a glimpse of me

at 20 with to-do lists

—Chen-ou Liu

box after box

of my immigrant life

in moonlit shadows

those I can't part with

those I can (but will I?)

—Chen-ou Liu

alone

in the shadow

of her man ...

another winter

together alone

—Chen-ou Liu

Bipasha Majumder (De)

cats and dogs

cats and dogs

seeking shelter

—Bipasha Majumder (De)

beachcombing who i am

—Bipasha Majumder (De)

Nicholas Klacsanzky

long walk . . .

the desert and I start

to smell the same

—Nicholas Klacsanzky

train tea . . .

a dream steeps

in snowshine

—Nicholas Klacsanzky

Doug Belleville

winter rain

we choose to say

remission

—Doug Belleville

couch depression

the weight of me

without me

—Doug Belleville

family reunion

revisiting my 

imposter syndrome

—Doug Belleville

closest I've come

to a prayer

prostate exam

—Doug Belleville

Steliana Cristina Voicu

tea on the porch—

linden blossoms touching

the evening shadows

—Steliana Cristina Voicu

Ricardo de la Concha

 drug raid

toddler reaches

for a laser dot

—Ricardo de la Concha

rough boulevard

neon lights smear

like cheap lipstick

—Ricardo de la Concha

insomnia

the city’s pulse

louder than my own

—Ricardo de la Concha

Anne Fox

night sky in her eyes the secret deepens

—Anne Fox

lowing wind

the sound of somewhere else

in her sigh

—Anne Fox

Oscar Luparia

highway queue

in the rearview mirror

evening rainbow 

—Oscar Luparia

Jennifer L. Blanck

tucked under a blanket of stars

—Jennifer L. Blanck 

painful memories 

the spinning cobwebs 

in my head

—Jennifer L. Blanck

M. R. Pelletier

robins on the lawn

no longer searching 

for myself

—M. R. Pelletier

Standing Wave, a haibun by Joshua St. Claire

I 

guess

it’s time

for me to 

stop thinking about

that stupid

thing I

said 

when 

I was 

just a kid

because I am all 

grown up now

and you 

are

dead

freezing from the outside in the Susquehanna 

—Joshua St. Claire

Dennis Owen Frohlich

autumn rain

sobbing

in the gutters

—Dennis Owen Frohlich

setting winter sun

the shadow lines

across the field

—Dennis Owen Frohlich

Gareth Nurden

carnival day

embedded in a glass river

cold sky

—Gareth Nurden

On The Road, a haibun by K. Ramesh

(for Vinayan)

There was a time I lived like a hobo—not on freight trains like Kerouac, but wandering through books, poetry, and jazz. I carried a Walkman with cassettes of Monk, Coltrane, and Brubeck. The 29C bus took me from Adyar to the American Library, and from there often to Landmark, where hours slipped by among books. I discovered Gary Snyder there, and my friend and I spoke endlessly of literature over coffee at Sangeetha. I introduced him to the Beats; he brought along his Mamiya C330 and took photos, each frame carefully chosen—only twelve per roll. Some evenings we browsed Shiva Bookstore on Mount Road, returning home with bags heavy with journals and poems. Landmark is gone, the 29C still runs, though the view from the bus now is broken by metro stations. 

subway... 

we pause to listen 

to the blind singer 

—K Ramesh

Mircea Moldovan

migrant's dream—

under the leaf pillow

a rusty ring

—Mircea Moldovan

campfire in the diary a blank page

—Mircea Moldovan

Srinivasa Rao Sambangi

history book

a leaf's veins

on two pages

—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi

Violet Avery Hall

dry leaves

another argument

with the boyfriend

—Violet Avery Hall

John J. Dunphy

time on my hands

I gather up sand from

a broken hourglass

— John J. Dunphy

at 71

all drugs I do

prescribed by doctors

—John J. Dunphy

Federico C. Peralta

 insomnia—

   unfinished haiku

      in the head

—Federico C. Peralta

dawn flowers—

the changing scent of

     grandpa's tea

—Federico C. Peralta

Joe Wells

eucharist

forcing my confession—

harvest moon

—Joe Wells

toddler's stone 

on the pond 

the broken sky 

—Joe Wells

Adrian Bouter

every thought

softer than the previous one...

           dandelion fluff

—Adrian Bouter

radio song  tears hide in my hanky

—Adrian Bouter

Mona Bedi

daily horoscope

how I wish

life was perfect

—Mona Bedi

Bryan Rickert

 berry’s blushing

in the bramble

lover’s moon

—Bryan Rickert

noon heat

minnows rest

in my shadow

—Bryan Rickert

pausing

after my sneeze

the cardinal’s song

—Bryan Rickert

out of the tree line

and over the field

a hawk’s cry

—Bryan Rickert

Manasa Reddy Chichili

mom's smile 

autumn bucket 

keeps filling

—Manasa Reddy Chichili 

Alvin B. Cruz

summer’s end

written in the sand:

I was here

—Alvin B. Cruz

abandoned garden

all that remains

a laughing Buddha

—Alvin B. Cruz

making the most of almost winter rose

—Alvin B. Cruz

Tony Williams

hot, humid day…

how can butterflies

be bothered

—Tony Williams

curling up in bed

the cold bits

of me

—Tony Williams

Milan Rajkumar

falling jasmines

across the silent valley ...

another year of war

—Milan Rajkumar 

Randy Brooks

church dinner

for family and friends

ghost stories

—Randy Brooks

Eugeniusz Zacharski

stork’s arrival

the hotel

returns to life

—Eugeniusz Zacharski

barefoot

on the stubble field –

the scarecrow

—Eugeniusz Zacharski

Fatma Zohra Habis

almond blossoms—

light clings at dawn

to mother’s apron

—Fatma Zohra Habis

Robert Witmer

a new bell

on an old bike

all downhill from here

—Robert Witmer

Mark Hendrickson

food truck

I know you're not good for me

but I still come back

—Mark Hendrickson

 

cotton candy

stories are better the way

grandma spins them

—Mark Hendrickson

Thompson Emate

above the stars

beyond a dream

mama’s songs

—Thompson Emate

Dicots, a haibun by Alex Drogin

The third time we saw each other the road was cut with tire tracks through the snow. We walked along either side of one, making sure to get our shoes a little wet and our feet a little cold. We would warm up at the party and sweat through our sweaters and by the end of the night the tracks had been blanketed over again. We retraced our steps back to your house, shoes wet, feet cold, warming up inside. You stopped at the hood of a car on the way and doused me with powder: I would have frozen, if the blood hadn't rushed to my cheeks. At your front door you brushed the remaining sleet out of my hair. It didn't snow so gently again all winter.

daffodil trumpets

waiting out the silence

of snowmelt

Barbara Feehrer

lakeside concert

the all-day song

of a red-eyed vireo

—Barbara Feehrer

Boryana Boteva

the happy face of my kid

on the swing

lilac evening

—Boryana Boteva

Nicoletta Ignatti

Gaza moon -

the children's bowls

full of tears

—Nicoletta Ignatti

Mark Forrester

a butterfly's

uneven wings

lantana blossom

—Mark Forrester

blue sheen

on the drifting snow

a raven’s shadow

—Mark Forrester

Pitt Büerken

canoe tour

on the rivolet

we look

against the shore

all the time

—Pitt Büerken

Ruth Holzer

even in the snow those blue tents of the homeless

—Ruth Holzer

Jerome Berglund

monday morning 

taking inventory 

at the liquor store 

—Jerome Berglund

Meagan Bussert

due date today

she folds and refolds

the new nappy

—Meagan Bussert

Richard L. Matta

sudden gust

in mid-life...

a rainbow kite

—Richard L. Matta

Ravi Kiran

far from home

the familiar language

of a robin

—Ravi Kiran

Helen Sokolsky

barefoot in the barn

wildflowers tickle my toes

through open cracks

—Helen Sokolsky

Agnieszka Filipek

 at the gate

of the old cemetery

forget–me–nots

—Agnieszka Filipek

przy bramie

na stary cmentarz

niezapominajki

—Agnieszka Filipek

old mill house

water wheel full

of cherry blossom

—Agnieszka Filipek

stary młyn

koło wodne pełne

kwiatów wiśni

—Agnieszka Filipek

Nitu Yumnam

half-open bud

the commas in the voice  

of the bullied

—Nitu Yumnam

Vaishnavi Pusapati

 Women’s History Month,

        among pictures of Curie and Rosa Parks,

                                        my grandmother’s picture.

—Vaishnavi Pusapati

horror movie-

leaving the bed light on...

—Vaishnavi Pusapati

Devoshruti Mandal

orange horizon

her hennaed hair 

spills gold 

—Devoshruti Mandal 

Jennifer Gurney

dreaming 

myself an artist

solo exhibition

—Jennifer Gurney

afternoon shadows

I play jump rope

with the wind

—Jennifer Gurney

Manoj Sharma

father-son

more like

a puzzle

—Manoj Sharma 

late night bus

all the lights are on

no soul to count

—Manoj Sharma 

traffic noise

the rising and fading

of stadium cheers

—Manoj Sharma 

Zuzanna Truchlewska

migratory birds—

memory of you

comes back

—Zuzanna Truchlewska

Chen-ou Liu

false dawn ...

first to rise, my twin toddlers

sing up the sun 

—Chen-ou Liu

the newborn

between in-laws and her

hard-edged sunlight

—Chen-ou Liu

office gossip

the chirrups

of crickets

—Chen-ou Liu

alone in half-light

my mother folding clothes

like a retail pro ...

the comfort of routine

in this war-shaken world

—Chen-ou Liu

Sherri J Moye-Dombrosky

kazoo band

penguins marching

to the sea

—Sherri J Moye-Dombrosky

Arvinder Kaur

gran’s journal 

daydreams of fifty years 

yellowing

—Arvinder Kaur

Doug Sylver

the morning she

left me for good

spotless coffee cup 

—Doug Sylver

Gareth Nurden

middle of summer

lapping waves

lifting her sundress

—Gareth Nurden

Anne Fox

knee-deep in dawn

where the road was

a heron

—Anne Fox

midnight sail

skimming the surface

of stars

—Anne Fox

Diane Webster

on the lake

a rowboat ripples across

the swan’s wake

—Diane Webster

Joanna Ashwell

sunflower dowry

the first nod

of dewfall

—Joanna Ashwell

Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

how rapidly 

those memories swell 

like chia seeds in water

i soak my anger

and drink it down

—Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

seven times over

nomads

changing homes 

my son revels

in the joy of new spaces

—Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

Monica Kakkar

grandmas leave

aromas in the alley . . .

Eid al-Adha

—Monica Kakkar

Nivy

the glow

on mother's face...

brahmakamalam

—Nivy

Srinivasa Rao Sambangi

sunset colors

the missing green

on the earth

—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi

Susan Lee Roberts

pitched tent

beneath the stars…

a chorus of bullfrogs

—Susan Lee Roberts

John Hawkhead

filling the basket

with cut flowers

a wicker coffin

—John Hawkhead

soft flurries

our old cat releases

her final purr

—John Hawkhead

Katie Montagna

sharing the canyon silence

bighorn sheep

and me

—Katie Montagna

afternoon humidity

the thickness

of lavender

—Katie Montagna

rain in the beech grove

I drop my hood

to listen

—Katie Montagna

against the wind

a sparrow lands

where it started

—Katie Montagna

flashes of red

in the rose bush

a touch and go robin

—Katie Montagna

Ricardo de la Concha

wallet gone

should have known

her track marks

—Ricardo de la Concha

Hynek Koziol

storm day

her four blowouts

on three candles

—Hynek Koziol

coming home

in an empty cigarette box

butterfly wings

—Hynek Koziol

Bryan Rickert

snowmelt

again no sign

of the crocus

—Bryan Rickert

not remembering 

how I got the bruise

autumn’s darkness 

—Bryan Rickert

Melissa Leaf Nelson

chapped lips

waiting for hot cocoa

to cool

—Melissa Leaf Nelson

long drive home

spotting a bald eagle

standing in the ditch

—Melissa Leaf Nelson

wind-sculpted snowdrifts

she snuggles deeper

into her afghan

—Melissa Leaf Nelson

Govind Joshi

monsoon drizzle

an ant circling

on the taro leaf

—Govind Joshi 

hibiscus bloom

spider siblings

learning to weave

—Govind Joshi 

Vaishnavi Pusapati

narrow mountain road

both drivers

unrelenting

—Vaishnavi Pusapati

monday morning

office plant and I

both droopy

—Vaishnavi Pusapati

Tim Dwyer

Botanic Gardens

the apple tree tagged

in loving memory

—Tim Dwyer

chemo infusion

you and me in paradise

on the radio

—Tim Dwyer

phone booth locked 

on an empty crossroad—

missed calls

—Tim Dwyer

 

Sharon Ferrante

wine at dusk 

my dark wings 

growing 

—Sharon Ferrante

Kelly Sargent

apple blossoms 

the truths 

a child knows  

—Kelly Sargent

taking the long way home strawberry fields

—Kelly Sargent

Dennis Andrew Aguinaldo

the moment

the fireworks

dim your shadow

—Dennis Andrew Aguinaldo

Jefferson Limos

night sky

on my bureau mirror

insomnia

—Jefferson Limos 

Alvin B. Cruz

the folded secrets

in her diary

paper cranes

—Alvin B. Cruz

those who remain missing stars at dawn

—Alvin B. Cruz

a conch shell

held close to my ear

unsaid goodbyes

—Alvin B. Cruz

Tejendra Sherchan

scientists prediction

we would be immortal

by twenty thirty

—Tejendra Sherchan

Kila Lim

summer's end

the long road back

from the ocean

—Kila Lim

Meera Rehm

love in the air—

two hoverflies circle 

my hanging lamp

—Meera Rehm

endless wars—

from the barstool

we debate peace

—Meera Rehm

Eugeniusz Zacharski

Milky Way—

living and dead

on their way around

—Eugeniusz Zacharski

Daniela Lăcrămioara Capotă

old station 

part tracks 

part poppies

—Daniela Lăcrămioara Capotă

Dan C. Iulian

children's hospital

asking the nurse 

for cotton candy

—Dan C. Iulian

Marie-Ange Claude (Angee Mac)

summer eve

around the glasses our troubles drown

—Marie-Ange Claude (Angee Mac)

soirée  d’été

autour des verres nos soucis se noient 

—Marie-Ange Claude (Angee Mac)

Randy Brooks

piano lesson

Monet’s blue bridge

over lilies

—Randy Brooks

Gary D. Grossman

another funeral

ash leaves spiral down

three score and eleven

—Gary D. Grossman

Joshua St. Claire

the blue before the red before the blue before the insomnia dawn

—Joshua St. Claire

visiting poets

from Gliese 581c

wondering aloud

what all the fuss is about

our one and only moon

—Joshua St. Claire

Marcellin Dallaire-Beaumont

trench soldier

his tomb covered by petals

falling in the mud

 

soldat de tranchée

sa tombe couverte de pétales

tombe dans la boue

—Marcellin Dallaire-Beaumont

Amber Winter

weighted snow

we sit in silence

as it piled up

—Amber Winter

Padma Rajeswari Tata

verdant hills . . . 

the scattering

of dad's ashes

—Padma Rajeswari Tata

Mohua Maulik

heatwave

seeking refuge in the temple

a butterfly

—Mohua Maulik

Bona M. Santos

new moon

the cold glow

of a firefly lantern

—Bona M. Santos

Steliana Cristina Voicu

the wind scatters

the linden blossoms…

on my porch

more and more

ballerina dresses

—Steliana Cristina Voicu

Boryana Boteva

marigold in bloom 

in the garden 

my old love 

—Boryana Boteva 

Pitt Büerken

new girlfriend 

his problems 

old ones 

—Pitt Büerken

Robert Witmer

wallpaper peeling potatoes for dinner alone

—Robert Witmer

thin shade

a sapling in moonlight

over her grave

—Robert Witmer

Scott Wiggerman

 trying to read the crane's calls 

—Scott Wiggerman

Sarah Mahina Calvello

sidewalk café 

the new faces 

of the moon 

—Sarah Mahina Calvello 

Yearling, a haibun by Colleen M. Farrelly

Spring blooms azaleas, crocuses, and snowdrops. The moon rises and sets and rises again. A fox kit scampers off for the first time. 

Later, I reconnect with old friends at the lake cabin bonfire.

 

rosebud  the  prick  of  passing  time

I                                  travel

prune                              last

my                                 year’s

friend                             daisies

list                               bloom

post-election howling at the moon again

Haiga

 Photo: Jan Daly. Text : Oana Cercel & Timothy Daly.

Thomas Landgraf

jeweler's window

the sparkle

in mother's eye

—Thomas Landgraf

Nancy Brady

going down easier

than my pronunciation

—Gewürztraminer

—Nancy Brady

Manasa Reddy Chichili

autumn wind

children trace 

the dragonfly

—Manasa Reddy Chichili

Adrian Bouter

nude dune  grasses cling to the breeze

—Adrian Bouter

Fatma Zohra Habis

his words—

raindrops tapping

on my windowpane

—Fatma Zohra Habis

dry river

I still hear

childhood echoes 

—Fatma Zohra Habis

Mona Iordan

wedding fireworks

the beggar on the street

laughs happily

—Mona Iordan

Nicholas Gentile

the nun fixed upon

an ink drop on my shirt

a slap in the face

to make me 

closer to god

—Nicholas Gentile  

a year after—

my mother's closet

just her scent

—Nicholas Gentile  

Adele Evershed

seed-fall moon

another thing

to blame on mum

—Adele Evershed

Sam Cassidy

laden car

the empty room

in the care home

—Sam Cassidy

sun-soaked garden

the abundance

of marrow

—Sam Cassidy

Chen-ou Liu

blossom on blossom

I wish I could 

let go of the past

—Chen-ou Liu

a flock of geese

flapping twilight silence

tenth year in exile

—Chen-ou Liu

Haiga, by Richard West

 

Text & Image by Richard West.

Haiga, by Xiaoou Chen & Zixia Liu

Text: Xiaoou Chen. 

Image: Zixia Liu.

Aleksandra Rybczyńska

dewdrops

caught in the spiderweb

the morning sun

—Aleksandra Rybczyńska

Haiga, by Nitu Yumnam

Federico C. Peralta

 still noon sky—

   rhythmic tap tap 

      a walking stick

—Federico C. Peralta

in my silent room

devoid of your warm presence

I remember you...

long-stemmed rose in the vase

sharing my deep solitude 

—Federico C. Peralta

Ravi Kiran

all your flaws

should I instead

count sheep

—Ravi Kiran

miles apart

touch your cheek

for me

—Ravi Kiran

Deborah Karl-Brandt

the swallows are back

as they flit through the sky

I think of my father-in-law

his ashen face

his rattling breaths

—Deborah Karl-Brandt

Dagmara Wieczorkowska

catnip scent

one more speck

on the cat’s nose

—Dagmara Wieczorkowska

pale Mercury

on a dawning sky –

a robin's chirp 

—Dagmara Wieczorkowska

Castor and Pollux

between two fingers

light years

—Dagmara Wieczorkowska

Nitu Yumnam

childhood swing

i am still

out of breath

—Nitu Yumnam

Photos by Michael C. Roberts

Michael C. Roberts

 

Doug Sylver

the 4th of July

gazing up at

ripening figs

—Doug Sylver

Jonathan English

midsummer

the shade of

rowan tree flowers

—Jonathan English

John Pappas

bone scan

the mercy of

next year

—John Pappas

Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

sunbeams

upon her face

i see veins

—Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

Françoise Maurice

gone children

the remains

of grilled prawns

—Françoise Maurice

Albert Schlaht

lingering memories

in the attic

old flies

—Albert Schlaht

Haiga, by Lavana Kray

—Text & photo by Lavana Kray.

Oscar Luparia

rising tide

the waves play

with a sand castle

—Oscar Luparia

Joshua Gage

 drum bridge

the plop 

of a penny

—Joshua Gage 

crisp pickles

the purr of the cat

around my ankle

—Joshua Gage 

Katie Montagna

summer scherzo

wild orchids

in the meadow grass

—Katie Montagna

fluttering past

on an upgust of wind

a rose petal

—Katie Montagna

night wind wafting jasmine

through the window

this full moon

—Katie Montagna

Monica Kakkar

grab-and-go . . .

abubble in the meadow

mating bobolink

—Monica Kakkar

Joanna Ashwell

secrets held—

leaning into

the willow

—Joanna Ashwell

 

colouring

the bare trees

purple dusk

—Joanna Ashwell

Zahra Mughis

who remembers

after they wither . . .

azaleas

—Zahra Mughis

Jahnavi Gogoi

peace lilies 

writing her son’s 

obituary 

—Jahnavi Gogoi 

spelling bee—

my name mere syllables 

in a new country 

—Jahnavi Gogoi 

Alvin B. Cruz

lavender fields

the less traveled road

to peace

—Alvin B. Cruz

Daniela Misso

not sure 

whether to stay or go . . .

hay-filled wind

—Daniela Misso

Mohua Maulik

mother of six

resettles between the books

kittens

—Mohua Maulik

Srinivasa Rao Sambangi

monsoon rain

one box ticked

in the farmer's wishlist

—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi

Priority Mail, a haibun by Zachery May

He never remembered the accident. Just the bumps, sirens pulsing out distant windows, a storm of red and white. Strangers worked over his body, rocking with waves. They pulled daggers from his skin, stabbed him with their own. Pressed deep in his chest. Numbness crept up his limbs, enfolded him in an empty hug. In that moment, the EMTs became his best friends. He cast his precious message in a bottle toward the shore, then slipped into the ocean.  

   gasping star

   tell the dark
   I love her

Sharon Ferrante

inviting dark clouds my blue morning 

—Sharon Ferrante

Arvinder Kaur

almost dusk 

a mynah tiptoes 

on gulmohar petals 

—Arvinder Kaur

snapping beans

my sister and I 

unburden 

—Arvinder Kaur

jungle walk 

he proposes to me 

with a wildflower

—Arvinder Kaur

Kelly Sargent

county fair

the stickiness

of school bus seats

—Kelly Sargent

Mona Bedi

road trip  

we argue over the flavor 

of potato chips --

how different the worlds

we come from

—Mona Bedi

Bryan Rickert

 at both ends of winter burning leaf scent

—Bryan Rickert

Randy Brooks

wild blackberries

her handful

of sour memories

—Randy Brooks

Karen Battoo

 communed inside a clannish circle needles speak

—Karen Battoo

Roberta Beach Jacobson

a sea

of rainbow plastics

whale belly

—Roberta Beach Jacobson

karaoke night . . .

clearing the room fast

mosquito song

—Roberta Beach Jacobson

pushing empty wheelchair across the room widower

—Roberta Beach Jacobson

Hynek Koziol

strawberry season 

the taste in the garden

of morning rain

—Hynek Koziol

John Richard Stephens

its reflection

on the pond

dragonfly 

—John Richard Stephens

Vandana Parashar

can of sardines

the cat through the pet door

not ours

—Vandana Parashar

Eugeniusz Zacharski

frogspawn

a gentle glow

of distant lightning

—Eugeniusz Zacharski

cold night

nebulae

drift apart

—Eugeniusz Zacharski

Jerome Berglund

badlands

a dam bawling  

for its calf

—Jerome Berglund

Tsanka Shishkova

fading gipsy song

in the summer night

lonely boat

—Tsanka Shishkova

Neena Singh

scorching heat

the farmer borrows

his scarecrow's hat

—Neena Singh

Marilyn Ashbaugh

quick-mart

gran picks up a six-pack

of petunias

—Marilyn Ashbaugh

farmstead auction

stealing plants

to save her garden

—Marilyn Ashbaugh

knee-high in the cornfield solstice moon

—Marilyn Ashbaugh

river of stars sneaking out to see you

—Marilyn Ashbaugh

Jay Friedenberg

stock market

trying to make

cents of it all

—Jay Friedenberg

Bipasha Majumder (De)

 overcast sky

stars twinkling

in granny's stories

—Bipasha Majumder (De)

air raid

wren songs squeezing

through the debris

—Bipasha Majumder (De)

drone strike

a widower's wailing paints

the stars black

—Bipasha Majumder (De)

a war orphan wailing wildflowers

—Bipasha Majumder (De)

war win

trees dressed

in white

—Bipasha Majumder (De)

John Hawkhead

sudden remembrance

of an empty crib

gentling rain

—John Hawkhead

Jon Thurlow

outside the hospital

a white rose blooms—

sleepless night

—Jon Thurlow

Tony Williams

cold shower—

the nettles

erect

—Tony Williams

Audrey Quinn

fevered night

the clock ticking

slowly

—Audrey Quinn

rainstorm

a scorpion

out of hiding

—Audrey Quinn

Blueprint, by Ariana Afrin Emu

I used to love like a storm

no map

no shelter

just sky and surrender

—Ariana Afrin Emu

Melissa Laussmann

sipping tea

under the morning moon

scent of jasmine

—Melissa Laussmann

Mark Forrester

funeral season

bittercress blossoms

beside the old school

—Mark Forrester

Boryana Boteva

rose bud

more gentle than ever

my mom’s hug

—Boryana Boteva

park breeze

a few chestnut blossoms

in my coffee cup

—Boryana Boteva

Maya Daneva

wedding proposal…

the serenade

of the cicadas

—Maya Daneva

Robert Witmer

falling leaves

that yellow carpet

in mother's room

—Robert Witmer

a

puzzle

missing

pieces

childhood 

—Robert Witmer

Christine Forbes

starless shore

one white pebble

glints moonlight

—Christine Forbes

Manasa Reddy Chichili

spring rain

i fold my mom's smile 

into paper boats

—Manasa Reddy Chichili

Mark Gilbert

crimson poppy

there will always be life

among the rubble

—Mark Gilbert

خشخاش قرمزي

توجد حياة دائما

بين الأنقاض

—Arabic translation: Fatma Zohra Habis

Colleen M. Farrelly

spring rain

I trace his name

on the tombstone

—Colleen M. Farrelly

Tuyet Van Do

extra protein 

in the porridge 

a riceworm

—Tuyet Van Do

Ravi Kiran

Mid-west cornfield 

the slow twirl 

of a windmill

—Ravi Kiran

braking reflex 

a crow's shadow 

crosses the road

—Ravi Kiran

Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

my father's last smile 

floats upon my grief

—Vaishnavi Ramaswamy

Louise Hopewell

reflection pond 

pondering a dragonfly 

pondering a dragonfly

—Louise Hopewell

Tonya Hall

crescendo 

dawn chorus 

of whippoorwills

—Tonya Hall

Tom Blessing

old photos

old memories

and yet

—Tom Blessing

Chen-ou Liu

river stroll

salmon leap from cloud

to cloud

—Chen-ou Liu

Mother's farewell

lasts far into my first night ...

Taiwan, lone island

seen through the airplane window

as my lower lip trembles

—Chen-ou Liu

Kanchan Chatterjee

sensei orders

more colors from E-bay —

autumn begins

—Kanchan Chatterjee

deep summer . . .

in my tenth-floor apartment

no scent of jasmine

—Kanchan Chatterjee

Jennifer Gurney

the branches

of my family tree

together

—Jennifer Gurney

Gareth Nurden

splatters of rain

folding a leaf

lotus flower

—Gareth Nurden

Oscar Luparia

the same sky...

a rainbow crosses

the border post

—Oscar Luparia

clear night

from star to star

with our fingers

—Oscar Luparia

Doug Sylver

life after death

still asking questions

one sock turned inside out

—Doug Sylver

Joanna Ashwell

bare ankles

flecked with blossom

early sunrise

—Joanna Ashwell

cornflower lane

the easy drift

of conversation

—Joanna Ashwell

Monica Kakkar

ceasefire... 

the border brimming 

with summer stars

—Monica Kakkar

Lakshman Bulusu

after party

the Milky Way 

in her eyes

—Lakshman Bulusu 

Hynek Koziol

spring evening

bird calling app

not sure

—Hynek Koziol

Nancy Brady

morning dew...

slug trails

on the fairway

— Nancy Brady

Flag Day...

irises waving

in the wind

— Nancy Brady

Douglas J. Lanzo

warmth of her smile

an albatross

rising from sunned cliffs

—Douglas J. Lanzo

Lys Browne

between two clocks

he keeps a float of an hour

his double life

—Lys Browne

Katie Montagna

station garden

these four o'clocks

keep to time

—Katie Montagna

Sharon Ferrante

witch’s magick 

a handful of peanuts 

quiets the crow 

—Sharon Ferrante 

Kelly Sargent

strawberry shampoo suds

circling the drain

at long last

learning to care

for myself

—Kelly Sargent

Marcellin Dallaire-Beaumont

her shutters down

for such a long time now 

garden nettles 

—Marcellin Dallaire-Beaumont

ses volets baissés

depuis longtemps déjà

orties au jardin

—Marcellin Dallaire-Beaumont