SUMMER 2019

after love
the taste of wild
strawberries

a gust of spring 

the playground swing sways
into my childhood

 

stillbirth...
her origami crane
unfolded again

 

Chen-ou Liu

 

 

wave after wave

the cold sea grows

warm on my skin

 

Agnes Eva Savich

 

a horseshoe leans

against the stake –

almost fall

 

early light

the tip of a fish hook

pops through a worm 

Dan Salontai

fading daylight

the distant drumming

of a grouse

 

Laurie D. Morrissey

 

 

spring downpour—

the pink magnolia petals

shattered across the grass

 

ferns by the doorway

brown to translucence . . .

pattering October rain

 

reddening tops

of row after row of tasseled corn—

September dawn

 

Wally Swist

 

 

glint of trout

cars nosing forward

in the rain

 

Keith Polette

 

 

Moonflower
I brew tea
for my dead mother

A three-legged dog
follows me home–
end of autumn

 

Alexis Rotella

 

 

late fall rain
a passed-over squash
melting to seeds

 

partially snared
in a trap
the mouse’s tiny voice

 

a hickory leaf’s
slow descent
my dog tugs the leash

 

Warren Gossett

 

 

fingers sifting through

rose petals in a glass bowl —

sunlight returning

 

Jerome Gagnon

 

 

first snow

one shrivelled apple

in the fruit bin

 

Anna Cates

 

 

seeing it first

in his voice –

blue sheen of the grackle

beyond the waterfall roar

hand gestures

of the couple's conversation

measuring the spring rain

by lengths

of dandelions

Judson Evans

 

 

spring mist — 
the thickness 
of her forefinger

 

Goran Gatalica

 

 

path meandering 

through the linden forest

nightingale song

 

Bruce H. Feingold

 

 

the whiteness of language under my hands

 

Shloka Shankar 

 

 

crows and I

call this moment

through trees

 

under the pine

already

dusk

 

Owen Bullock

 

 

fading sun
out of sanddust
a crow's cry

 

David He Zhuanglang

 

 

his breathing

balanced between two twigs

hooded crow

 

cloudy afternoon

trying to map father

over the radiographer’s shoulder

 

Clare McCotter

 

 

killing a spider

to sleep alone all night

passing without dreams   

 

Michael Feil

 

 

deadheading 

your favourite rose

I think of her

 

before after the river on my tongue

 

Helen Buckingham

 

 

crossing the Rubicon  one stone at a time

 

Barbara Tate

 

 

backyard sprinkler

the blackbird splashes

under a rainbow

 

scrap of fur

a raven scrapes its beak

on the tar

 

Lorraine Haig

 

 

autumn leaves

the refugee’s hands

red with henna

 

Guliz Mutlu

 

 

the sharp ending
of her brush stroke...
spring rain

 

Réka Nyitrai

 

 

night train 

the mime removes 

his makeup 

 

snow moon 

my daughter tries to wake 

her dead rabbit 

 

John McManus

 

 

alpine hut

our lantern sparkles

with moth dust

 

trail ride

my bootlaces bristle

with burrs

 

Debbie Strange

 

 

rain-streaked window

the abbot’s cracked voice

at vespers

 

Radostina Dragostinova

 

 

harbor a wind-shift unfurls gulls

 

Adrian Bouter

 

 

ants on the move –
the gentle sway
of a dead butterfly

 

old walls –
my shadow and a dead lizard
withering in the sun 

 

Oscar Luparia

 

 

a lonely night

cats’ eyes

blink in rainfall

 

Joanna Ashwell

 

 

not knowing how to let go     wild roses

 

Ben Moeller-Gaa

 

 

opening 

the car door

yellow scented lupins  

 

summer rain

koi in and out

of oxygen weed 

 

spring 

a falcon pins our gaze

on the wind    

 

Jenny Fraser

 

 

deep summer —   
the softness
of sheep’s belly

 

Goran Gatalica

 

 

keening 

in the key of B flat—

a blackhole

 

Marilyn Fleming

 

 

bore heb lwybr…

llais yr ysguthan

yn symud trwy’r goedwig

 

pathless morning…

a woodpigeon’s voice

moves through the forest

 

Thomas Powell

 

 

raft anchored

to the full moon

shadows dive in

 

Elancharan Gunasekaran

 

 

sudden wind

the ginkgo tree shakes off

golden sunshine

 

slanting light

a beer bottle in the ditch

catches a shine

 

John Zheng

 

 

flickering

over the pond grass

clouds of glitter

 

Bruce Jewett

 

 

thick with fog
the frog's voice
repeating itself

 

Elmedin Kadric

 

 

she said no heavy rain in the forecast

 

Christine Goodnough

 

 

trešnja u cvatu                                                                    

sav se bahar skupio                                                            

na mravinjaku                                                                     

 

blossoming cherry

all scents have gathered

on the anthill

 

gasim fenjere                                                                      

da u očima konja                                                                

vidim sazvežđe                                                                   

 

I turn off the lights

to see the constellation

in the horse’s eyes

 

Mile Lisica

 

 

Train ride:

the copper flashes

of pheasants' tails 

 

Jim Sussex

 

 

catching sleep…

a sunbeam slips through

the window

 

Anne Carly Abad

 

 

above the tenor that falsetto candlelight smouldering

 

Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah

 

 

warm breeze

bee flies into

the sound of wind

 

TAK Erzinger

 

 

pale sunbeams –

a tiny woodpecker

curving your smile

 

Gopal Lahiri

 

 

Snowdon

all that hiking to view

the mist

 

Quendryth Young

 

 

shed

in moonlight

this wrinkled bark

 

S.M. Kozubek

 

 

power cut                             

the omnipresence

of birdsong

 

remembering                                

an old hymn—

rhythm of the rain

 

Nathalie Buckland

 

 

canyon heat

our bread blown dry

before lunch

 

Debbie Scheving

 

 

collecting shells...

the sea breeze

in my palms

 

Gurpreet Dutt

 

 

lavender

its fragrance

abuzz with bees

 

Mike Moule

 

 

rainy night
counting the years
my grandma passed on

 

Precious Oboh

 

 

Rose garden

an essence of diesel 

on the petals

 

Bisshie

 

 

drifting snow –

shattering the silence

a wren sings 

 

Clive Bennett

 

 

outgoing tide –

through dark green weed

fishermen wade

 

Amanda Bell

 

 

midsummer day
the only breeze
a hover fly

 

Roger Watson

 

 

sudden rain

the missing words

in my poem

 

Agus Maulana Sunjaya 

 

 

who will know

I never unpotted the plant

you gave me

 

Karen Robbie

 

 

Fractured clouds
swans escape the water
and drop a silver rain

 

Bernard White

 

 

back from Eire

a polished worry stone

in my pocket

 

Pitt Büerken

 

 

petals open

for bees

that aren't there

 

Roberta Beach Jacobson

 

© 2019 Wales Haiku Journal