hedgerow #23

Posted on April 3, 2015 by Caroline Skanne

welcome to #23 of hedgerow, featuring 13 different poets & artists. this first issue of April celebrates spring flowers! enjoy.

with love & kindness…

https://www.facebook.com/wildflowerpoetrypress

https://www.facebook.com/hedgerowpoems

pale and watery
in my bones
I need red flowers tonight

even here
atop the ferris wheel
honeysuckle

3 red flowers
in a teapot vase
keeping me company
when you are away

the untuned piano
flowers dying in the vase
even the mail is late —
when will you be home?

lilacs
thank you
for filling my empty spaces

first slow rain of summer
dear iris
there you are
reveling in your
luscious self
making the most of all
your moments

beside the monastery
a plastic chicken
guards baby tulips

Zee Zahava looks for flowers each morning as she walks around her neighborhood in Ithaca, New York

front step. . .
this snail delivering
a plum blossom

cherry blossom moon
my home becomes
a palace

Julie Warther (@JulieWarther) lives in Dover, Ohio and serves as Midwest Regional Coordinator for the Haiku Society of America. (www.hsa-haiku.org). Her haiku chapbook “What Was Here” is available through Folded Word Press. http://foldedword.bigcartel.com/product/what-was-here

graduation day
after the hands land
wondering what to do

Lauren Krauze writes short stories, short poems and long emails. She currently teaches and lives in New York, NY.

Alexis Rotella (Arnold, Maryland, USA) served as Haiku Society of America President in 1984, her famous poem Purple appears in Creative Writing: An Intro to Poetry and Fiction St. Martin’s Press, Teaching with Heart (Jossey-Bass, San Francisco, 2014).

Repairs of the Week

That week you didn’t call
I was quite busy
plastering myself together
Shoring up the beams
Repairing the glass of an ego
That didn’t withstand the storm.
I swept up the gravel from
A rock hard heart
that remained unflinching
until now.
How unfair to the structure
To shake its foundation so.
How unfair to upend me so.
How unfair…

10 tips on writing a poem

1. Mention things by genus (which crows do you hear screaming like fog horns; which tuber in your garden is making your nose smile?).
2. Describe something as something else (the sun stings like battery acid).
3. It is helpful to mention vast expanses of hilly land with some wind slapping your hair around. Or conversely, the grittiness of your street, the dirt under your nails.
4. Bring in a few details like sights and/or tastes, but remember to describe them as something else (your hair tastes like fury).
5. Stop… Hold time in your palm. Look at it with the precision of a second-hand. Notice your smallness in the world. Or contemplate the vastness of the Milky Way.
6. What do you feel (remember… feel it as something else [your hands, like autumn kisses])? Notice and recount the details.
7. Reveal something so secret it makes others uncomfortable, and so big your priest is repenting from association.
8. Rhyme sparingly and with care. Same with alliteration.
9. Juxtaposition works well at the end.
10. Place your heart on your sleeve and send it off, then wait and wait and wait. Repeat…

Jeri Thompson resides in Long Beach, CA where she spends much quality time with herself and her Trikke (Scarlett Birdie) riding along the beach bike/Trikke path. Nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2014, she is soon to appear in Pearl Magazine. Also find her in Silver, Green and Summer Anthologies from Silver Birch Press, and online at Cadence Collective, Bukowski on Wry, Cactifur and Carnival Literature Magazine (Vol. 4). CSULB grad, studied with professors G. Locklin, E. Fried, R. Lee and R. Zapeda. LBC resident since 1993.

the potato seeds begin to sprout space station

Mike Andrelczyk is currently living in Strasburg, PA. Also lived in Los Angeles, Ca. and Lewes, De. He likes writing haiku about the ocean, potatoes, moons, plants – mostly little things except the ocean which is huge, and the moon which looks little but isn’t. Follow on Twitter @MikeAndrelczyk.

The Force

(After Dylan Thomas)

This tiny, nondescript, lavender flower,
growing in a crack in the sidewalk–

a divine explosion of cells–

has a power greater
than that of two spiral galaxies colliding
in space–

and you
share in that power.

George Young is a retired physician living in Boulder, Colorado, USA. He has published four books of poetry and has recently become engrossed in writing short, eight-lined poems.

her bookmark
divides The Art of Love —
living apart

moving day …
in her throwaway pile
my first chapbook

snow angel —
the touch of her lips
cold in my memory

Chen-ou Liu is currently the editor and translator of NeverEnding Story, http://neverendingstoryhaikutanka.blogspot.ca/, and the author of five books, including Following the Moon to the Maple Land (First Prize, 2011 Haiku Pix Chapbook Contest) and A Life in Transition and Translation ( Honorable Mention, 2014Turtle Light Press Biennial Haiku Chapbook Competition).

Joann Grisetti writes poetry and short stories. She lives in Florida with her husband and two sons. Joann loves travel and reading.

delicate
in her spring dress
of purple…
oh my, myrtle I say
where is this frock in winter?

Pat Geyer lives in East Brunswick, NJ, USA. Her home is surrounded by the parks and lakes where she finds her inspiration in Nature. Published in several journals, she is an amateur photographer and poet.

they look like snowflakes…
pear tree blossoms falling
past my window

Ed Bremson is retired, but he hopes he never retires from being a poet, just as he hopes he never fails to enjoy the pleasures of Spring.

Barbara Kaufmann can be found (or lost) wandering in the woods, beaches and gardens of New York, her camera and notebook in hand, hunting for poems.http://wabisabipoet.wordpress.com/

each story
sparks to the surface
in spurts
most of the time
I’m just living

Kat Lehmann (@SongsOfKat) lives in Connecticut, USA by the river where she writes. Her first book of free verse poetry, Moon Full of Moons (Peaceful Daily, 2015), was published in February 2015 http://peacefuldaily.com/page/books.

hedgerow #20

Posted on March 13, 2015 by Caroline Skanne

welcome to #20 of hedgerow, bringing you nine different poets & artists. this will be the last winter issue, next week we’ll celebrate the spring equinox! send in your work in time. thanks for all your support, every effort is appreciated. happy friday everyone.

with love & kindness…

Snow / No Hummingbirds

Finally, the refrigerator motor shuts off and the loudest sound is one I make myself by circling my thumbs around each other. I don’t realize I’m doing this until I try to identify the sound and, by the process of elimination — since there are no hummingbirds in the apartment, no rustling leaves — I figure it out.

It’s been snowing all day. The last car went by hours ago and the tire tracks are filled in. Only two people pass, a man and a woman, walking down the middle of the street instead of on the sidewalk. I watch from the window: the woman, in a pale trench coat and high leather boots, holds a black umbrella over her head; the man wears a hooded jacket and lumbers beside her. They pass my house, then the fire station’s parking lot, the pretty house with the stained glass windows, the health club, and the abandoned storefront. They don’t appear to be talking to each other but I can’t be sure.

I go back to my chair, and the novel I don’t yet care about, and realize too late that I should have changed into warmer socks. I am too lazy to get up again. The refrigerator has started to hum again and the fire department’s generator just kicked in.

hour after hour
at the window —
yes it is still snowing

Zee Zahava lives in Ithaca, New York, where she leads weekly Writing Circles in her downtown studio. She is the editor of brass bell, an online haiku journal: http://brassbellhaiku.blogspot.com

trying to
clear a path from
the past
yesterday’s snow
heavy in his shovel

watching
for her return
another
snowflake melts
on my window

Dave Read is a Canadian poet whose work has appeared in many journals, including hedgerow. You can find his micropoetry on Twitter, @AsSlimAsImBeing.

lost behind
tree silhouettes
a fallen star

on the edge of
a snowdrop
rainbows

Vibeke Laier lives in Randers, Denmark, she has been writing and studying poetry since 2012, but her interest in the art of haiku stretches back to when she was a schoolgirl.

winter
a neon dream journey
nowhere zen road

Carole Johnston lives in Lexington, Kentucky USA where she drives around Bluegrass backroads with a notebook and camera in the front seat, capturing the haiku moment. Journeys: Getting Lost, Carole’s first chapbook of haiku and tanka, is now available for presale from Finishing Line Press. https://finishinglinepress.com/product_info.php?products_id=2211

Granddad in waiting

Directed at the nirvana
whoosh…
a single digit
climbs the clouds
beyond the reach of the streetlights
trailing off into silence

Flash— Bang,

Out of this disappearing point of light
Cascades golden rain
a murmur of a pop
adds silver splashes—
fracturing stars
slowly fading—
crackling to out.

Hello?

More glittering Fingers—
racing skyward,
music?
Tchaikovsky 1812.
woven in with

Hello?

Shrieks whistles
blues and Reds
greens and yellows
hissing, screaming
bangs and ka-booms
a climax of illumination and
reverberation.

On your marks!

HELLO are you still there?
Do what lov’—

Set!

sorry—
I didn’t hear you

Go…
my heart starts the race,

Callum and Blake are here
you know, the twins
hello!
Yeah! Yeah! I hear you,

Finding it hard going
my heart
hammering on
the final lap

are they all ok?
mother and babies doing fine

pressing the tape—
crossing the finish line,
winner

lovely what weight—
hello! hello! what,
she’s gone—
I also hang up

after a pounding race
warming down
relief and joy
overwhelmed
I weep.

My first born—
that poor girl
pregnant; huge and
uncomfortable
feeling ugly
for the last few weeks.

My eyes swim as
reality floods
ya-hooooooooo
I’m a granddad
whoosh…
cue music…

Mike Keville from London AKA Mikeymike.

BACKLIT

She treads the shoulder
Hesitates
Her silhouette
fine-lettering limbs
serif paws
Her glance to the sun’s blaze
her swivel on one hind leg
her felicitous leave
The saving of her own fox self

Lizz Murphy was born in Ireland but has lived in rural Australia for a long time. She has published twelve books and is currently fixated on small poems.

winter reaching the middle of the pond

geese overhead
the one that fills the spaces
between honks

Julie Warther lives in Dover, Ohio and serves as Midwest Regional Coordinator for the Haiku Society of America. (www.hsa-haiku.org)

subsiding gently into a hillside
a house I used to know

Molly Guy is Australian. She has had six books published, most of these contain collections of micro poetry and short stories.

Sandi Pray is a wild child who roams between mountain and marsh in North Carolina and Florida, http://ravencliffs.blogspot.com.

hedgerow #19

Posted on March 6, 2015 by Caroline Skanne

welcome to #19 hedgerow, bringing you ten different poets & artists, including for the first time some very short fiction! thank you all for turning up. it is a beautiful thing…

if you haven’t yet passed by our sister site wildflower poetry press — https://wildflowerpoetrypress.wordpress.com/

with love & kindness

The Journey Itself Is Home
for Matsuo Basho

I carry the dead weight
of cliched poetry
on the road
to the Interior
cherry blossoms drifting

Like the shadow in the morning, the workshop lecturer’s comment lingers in my mind, “There are two kinds of traveler-poets: those who look at the map and those who look in the mirror. The first are embarking on their journey, and the latter are returning home.”

Chen-ou Liu is currently the editor and translator of NeverEnding Story, http://neverendingstoryhaikutanka.blogspot.ca/, and the author of five books, including Following the Moon to the Maple Land (First Prize, 2011 Haiku Pix Chapbook Contest) and A Life in Transition and Translation (Honorable Mention, 2014Turtle Light Press Biennial Haiku Chapbook Competition).

Debbie Strange is a published tanka and haiku poet and an avid photographer. She enjoys creating haiga and tanshi (small poem) art. You are invited to visit her on Twitter @Debbie_Strange.

out at sea
with no wind in my sails…
the hardest
place to be
is by your side

Sergio A. Ortiz, Editor http://undertowtankareview.blogspot.com/

reunion …
sailing in every puddle
thunder clouds

Archana Kapoor Nagpal is an internationally published author of four books and three anthologies. Presently, she resides in Bangalore, India. You can visit her Amazon Author Profile to know more about her books and literary contributions.

The 365th Day

This is the day we do that summing up.
Annoying, isn’t it, the way
we tally and sort the year’s days
into the things – or people – we like and those
that caused us pain? We inventory
and discard, if we’re smart, whatever
no longer works, or what
carries no joy. We have this need
to take stock, as though we
were running a giant store full of
stuff, boots and gloves, or jars
of face cream and scented soaps.

This year let’s
let it alone,
think instead of the faint yellow blush
on the forsythia. Soon we can snip
its branches, hammer the stems
against the stone walk, set it all
in warm water in an old jar.

The small blooms, and then
tender green leaves will unfold
in the corner window.
Forcing spring
in midwinter.

Lynne Viti teaches writing about law, technology and media at Wellesley College in Massachusetts. She has written and published on such disparate topics as law, television, gardening, fashion, and growing up in Baltimore. See her links to publications on her blog: stillinschool.wordpress.com.

pencil pine–
letters you wrote
to the moon

Robyn Cairns is a Melbourne based poet who shares her poetry and photography on twitter @robbiepoet.

Steve Wilkinson, Co.Durham, England. Editor of the Bamboo Hut and currently exploring the avenue of TanshiArt.

Strangers

I sit on the front steps waiting for my ride. I have to be careful not to get into the wrong car. Strangers pull up in front of my house all the time and I jump up and greet them like long-lost friends. Sometimes this scares them and sometimes it scares me. I’m always having to explain about being nearsighted.

Familiar

Once in a restaurant I waved to myself in the mirror because I looked so familiar. I was critical of my haircut but other than that I looked like someone I might like to know. I gave myself a friendly smile, along with the wave. This could have been embarrassing but luckily nobody else noticed.

Excited

In the dream my friend tells me she is studying “Berlitz” and I get all excited, thinking she said “burlesque.”

Zee Zahava lives in Ithaca, New York, where she leads weekly Writing Circles in her downtown studio. She is the editor of brass bell, an online haiku journal: http://brassbellhaiku.blogspot.com

lemon gin
the sun sets
earlier today

winter winds
he still makes her
blush

Dave Read is a Canadian poet whose work has appeared in many journals, including hedgerow. You can find his micropoetry on Twitter @AsSlimAsImBeing.

Veronika Zora Novak is simply a daydreamer.

hedgerow #17

Posted on February 20, 2015 by Caroline Skanne

welcome to #17 of hedgerow, bringing you ten different poets & artists. as always grateful to readers & contributors alike. please keep sending in your work as well as spreading the word, every effort really counts! thanks also to all of you who had a peek at our sister site wildflower poetry press. if you haven’t already, simply follow the links below —

https://wildflowerpoetrypress.wordpress.com/

https://www.facebook.com/wildflowerpoetrypress

with love & kindness…

Michael Curtis Paul

Here at the Museum of Bad Ideas

We climb the spiral staircase
With boundless enthusiasm, searching
Tirelessly for the co-relation
Of spit and sandpaper, Jackdaw and superstition.
My wife is singing ‘Mary had a little lamb.’
My wife is reciting multiplication tables.
Once she quoted Tennyson:
“There lies the port, the vessel puffs her sail.”
I reached for a bottle of port, and downed it.
We are ailing from the same ailments, but approach
Remedies from different directions.
She prepares to ingest certain curative
Substances, while I make an appointment
With the headshrinker and wait patiently
For the vessel to puff her sail.

All of this. All of that. All of the above.
A sort of summing up. A remedial mathematics of memory.

Walking a high wire strung between the Urban Dictionary and the Oxford Unabridged, Michael Curtis Paul is a tight rope aerialist with an inner ear disease.

Paula Dawn Lietz

Paula Dawn Lietz ( Pd Lietz ) is an accomplished multi-genre artist, photographer and poet. http://www.pdlietzphotography.com

Debbie Strange

The Sacrament of Snow

the glow
of candled sea ice
at sundown
snowflakes melting
on our lashes

moonswept
the snowy foothills
u n d u l a t e
a night bird calls
my echo answers

a nimbus
around the frost moon
above us
the hushed wings
of a snowy owl

so many words
for rain and snow
in foreign tongues
yet the language of lovers
remains the same

Debbie Strange is a published tanka and haiku poet and an avid photographer. She enjoys creating haiga and tanshi (small poem) art. You are invited to visit her on Twitter @Debbie_Strange.

Natalia L. Rudychev

the phoenix of my heart
leaves fireflies behind
like fairy tale crumbs
so if i’m ever lost
there would be
living sparks
to guide
your
path
to
me

Natalia L. Rudychev is a philosopher, dancer, poet. She lives in New York, New York.

Caroline Skanne

Caroline Skanne, Rochester, UK is obsessed with anything wild and free. She is the founder of hedgerow: a journal of small poems. Her book ‘a hundred poems by caroline skanne’ is available from amazon: http://www.amazon.co.uk/hundred-small-poems-caroline-skanne/dp/1506022944

Barbara Kaufmann

How Is It Possible

on a morning when the clouds
curl back upon themselves,
and give up only momentary corridors of bare sky,
on a morning when those maddeningly small tokens of blue
taunt and tease a rain-weary, fog-weary heart,
how is it that the sighing wind,
bending toward the naked oak tree,
can carry a burst of bird song
through the myriad layers
of a morose winter morning,
piercing the frozen edges of a february nap
prodding and poking me out of my february nest?

By what miracle does a Carolina wren,
the tiniest of wintering birds,
on the gloomiest of winter days,
sing in the only voice
the universe gave it,
an April voice,
conjuring up a stunning moment of spring,
and bestowing a blessing
on the rain besotted morning,
anointing my eyes and ears
with the chrism of its winter anthem,
just in time to save my despairing soul
from the depths of this winter silence?

Barbara Kaufmann can be found (or lost) wandering in the woods, beaches and gardens of New York, her camera and notebook in hand, hunting for poems. http://wabisabipoet.wordpress.com/

Wendy Bourke

We walked by bushes in the rose garden
– happy – munching on kalamata olives and
spitting out pits, that landed, capriciously,
on the earth – like peace-loving bullets.

I rested my head upon his shoulder
and listened to the sound of our breathing . . .
as the minutes fell away.

Wendy Bourke lives in Vancouver, BC where – after a life loving words and scribbling poetry lines on pizza boxes and used envelopes – she finally got down to writing and publishing her poetry “in earnest” four years ago.

David J Kelly

David J Kelly lives and works in Dublin, Ireland, where he finds scientific and artistic inspiration in the natural world.

Ed Bremson

the unstained snowy
mountain-top . . .
the pine woods,
the eagle soaring
amidst the clouds

Ed Bremson lives in Raleigh, NC, USA where he writes poetry, watches movies, erases novels, and makes haiku song videos. ‘the unstained snowy’ appears in Ed Bremson’s book of found poems Frankenstein, available at amazon — http://www.amazon.com/Frankenstein-Ed-Bremson/dp/1503116794/ref=sr_1_1

Veronika Zora Novak

on bent knees . . .
our hair washed by
twilit river song

Veronika Zora Novak is simply a daydreamer.

hedgerow #14

Posted on January 30, 2015 by Caroline Skanne

welcome to #14 of hedgerow, it is so good to be back! the second issue of the year brings you 14 different poets & artists. as always, grateful to contributors & readers alike, please keep sending in your submissions as well as spreading the word, every effort really counts! if you haven’t yet found our facebook page, please follow the link below. exciting news about the print version will be posted here this coming week — https://www.facebook.com/hedgerowpoems

with love & kindness…

Alexis Rotella

Like me
the moon folded
in half.

Alexis Rotella (Arnold, Maryland, USA) served as Haiku Society of America President in 1984, her famous poem Purple appears in Creative Writing: An Intro to Poetry and Fiction St. Martin’s Press, Teaching with Heart (Jossey-Bass, San Francisco, 2014).

Peter Wilkin

Galloping away from a murder of crows

Peter Wilkin is a writer, poet & iphoneographer who lives in West Yorkshire, England.

Rachel Sutcliffe

day of your death
flowers at the bedside
shedding petals

alone now
the chill in our room
at sunset

the first night
without you
star filled sky

Rachel Sutcliffe, from Yorkshire, UK, has suffered from a serious immune disorder for the past 14 years, throughout this time writing has been her therapy, it keeps her from going insane!

Janet Butler

crow wings
across the morning
his hard song
a scratch on tender skies
his shadow grazes your hand

Janet Butler recently dove into the wonderful world of tanka, and has yet to emerge from it.

Carole Johnston

first a wren
then two crows
hawks stand guard
over winding roads
one flies across my path
out of the fog

Carole Johnston lives in Lexington, Kentucky USA where she drives around Bluegrass backroads with a notebook and camera in the front seat, capturing the haiku moment. Journeys:Getting Lost, Carole’s first chapbook of haiku and tanka, is now available for presale from Finishing Line Press. The books will be delivered in February. https://finishinglinepress.com/product_info.php?products_id=2211

Paula Dawn Lietz

my lips cold
upon your white shoulder
a desolate touch

Paula Dawn Lietz ( Pd Lietz ) is an accomplished multi-genre artist, photographer and poet. http://www.pdlietzphotography.com

Janet Qually

caught up again
in your wave of emotion
two hearts pounding
I still enjoy
the escalation

Janet Qually (USA) has been published in several journals and enjoys writing all forms of poetry. She frequently creates computer graphics to illustrate her work.

Julie Bloss Kelsey

walking the labyrinth
with my never-born child
… the call of wildflowers

my daughter’s hug —
butterfly wings
around my heart

after the play date
glitter in the dust pan

Julie Bloss Kelsey (@MamaJoules on Twitter) just earned her certification as a Maryland Master Naturalist.

Robert Tremmel

INTERRUPTIONS

Legs up and straight
out in front

reading Red Pine’s
commentary on Heart
Sutra, page one-hundred
forty-nine, pondering
anuttara samyak
sambodhi, unexcelled
perfect mantra

siren
at the stop sign
beyond the trees

neither
can be put
into words.

Robert Tremmel lives and writes in Ankeny, Iowa.

Ed Bremson

Ed Bremson lives in Raleigh, NC, USA where he writes poetry, watches movies, erases novels, and makes haiku song videos.

Garima Behal

pistachio shells we split our ways

Garima Behal is a student-poet-writer pursuing her graduation in Commerce, in New Delhi, India. Seeking a great Perhaps, she runs her blog at : http://theseismicscribbler.blogspot.in/

Shloka Shankar

this numbness
begins to thaw
tonight
i undress wounds
of the past

Shloka Shankar is a freelance writer who resides in India. She is the editor of the literary & arts journal, Sonic Boom. (http://sonicboomjournal.wix.com/sonicboom)

Chen-ou Liu

Confession of a Photography Addict

Mary invites me over to her place for an interview. She has her strands dyed every color of the rainbow, and looks much younger than she is. On the wall facing the window, she tacks up a giant photo of herself, composed of many smaller pictures. After taking a sip of iced tea, she starts talking in an unusually deep, husky voice, “I’ve spent ten years on a shrink’s couch, but I still hear him through the wall whispering to me. Every day when I get up and look in the bedroom mirror, I see that man staring back at me. I want him carved off my face…”

Father’s Day
blanked out on her calendar
morning chill

Chase Gagnon

through candle smoke
I write my poem
with the quill of a phoenix
while my fingers sink
into the gray ash of this life
for warmth

among
the dark prophecies
of withered
graffiti,
the cracks
in an empty sidewalk
full
of tiny
flowers

Chase Gagnon is a student from Detroit, who loves staying up all night drinking coffee and writing poetry. His poems have appeared in a number of journals and anthologies over the past two years.