#53

welcome to the latest issue of hedgerow. as always grateful to contributors & readers alike. thank you all for turning up!

october’s resident artist is Alexis Rotella. if you enjoy her art, please have a peek at the link below —

https://hedgerowpoems.wordpress.com/poet-artist-in-conversation/

 

with love & kindness.

 

 

 

she sings
on the rainswept corner
her bags
full of rubies and frogs
a green fairy plays a flute

Carole Johnston lives and writes in Lexington, Kentucky, USA, although she is from “nowhere zen.”

 

 

 

Bat in the belfry

 

 

 

her chipped mug
nothing remains
unbroken

.

temple bell tolling the emptiness inside things

.

sun shower
darting this way and that
skink on the cobblestones

Mark Miller lives in a tiny seaside village on the east coast of Australia, where he has been writing haiku for many years.

 

 

 

Traveling to the other side

 

 

 

blood moon
I still
love you

Grant Savage (Marmota monax x Homo sapiens) is a WASP groundhog hybrid living in Ottawa, Canada. The more the wind and cold eat at his bones the more fat he puts on them. He loves to photograph snow!

 

 

 

Day of the Dead

 

 

 

spider silk…
to catch a river
moon shifting

.

horses in the dusk. . .
half-remembered dreams
of a rail journey

Alan Summers, born London, resides in Wiltshire, England and enjoys French and Indian food, and wine from France, Italy, and Spain, and a few other
places too. He enjoys both good and bad science fiction movies, and zombies in Rom Coms as well as The Walking Dead and Z Nation. Alan prefers nightmares
to dreams, and making new zombie friends. Alan’s blog: http://area17.blogspot.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

november eve dance…
in moonlight on the hill
spirits wander round
whispering this dark night
tales of endings passed

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

 

 

 

Spirits of the mountains

 

 

 

the art in this issue was brought to you by Alexis Rotella —

I’ve been playing with words since I was a toddler. I remember sitting
on our front stoop in Southwestern Pennsylvania with a handwritten
letter from Uncle Bill to my mother. I thought if I stared at it long
enough I would be able to read…

https://hedgerowpoems.wordpress.com/poet-artist-in-conversation/

 

 

 

hedgerow #17

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

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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

periwinkle. chalk

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

incidental - 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 #6

welcome to #6 of hedgerow, featuring work from 14 different poets & artists. please keep sending in your work and thanks also for spreading the word, every effort is appreciated! grateful to contributors and readers alike. with love & kindness…

Pat Geyer

tonight the veil is thin once again we dream together

Pat Geyer lives in East Brunswick, NJ, USA. An amateur photographer and poet, her home is surrounded by many parks and lakes and she walks every day to find her inspiration in Nature. She has been published in several books and journals.

North Gregory

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North Gregory, Canada

Archana Kapoor Nagpal

end of rain …
in my broken pot of water
the two full moons

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.

Seonaid Francis

Night, South Uist

Peat smoke drifts
on the cold still air.
Moonlight silvers the silent water.
We are adrift in darkness,
unmoored in the ocean.

We sail alone
abandoned, but for our history.
Far lights to the west
of other boats.

Seonaid Francis lives in the Western Isles of Scotland, runs a publishing company and is slowly, oh so slowly, learning Gaelic.

Robyn Cairns

a pair of black swans slice the sky

Robyn Cairns is a Melbourne based poet.

Phillip Larrea

Chess Game

A chess match.
Since you’re white,
You move first.

Knights, castle,
Queen lost. King
Checkmated.

No deaths here.
Just pieces
Of me gone.

Phillip Larrea is the author of We the People (Cold River Press) and Our Patch (Writing Knights Press), and hails from Northern California.

Laura McKee

the sweet postcard

propped up
amongst all the mess
all this time
wishing you were here

Laura McKee lives in Bexleyheath, Kent, UK, so she is practically Kate Bush, and likes to twerk in the kitchen.

Veronika Zora Novak

I am the open road
I am the midnight wind
I am the dew laden grass
I am the river flow
I am the forest lush
I am the warmth of fire
I am the coolness of rock
I am the glow of the moon
I am the light of dawn
I am the love song

homeward bound…for a moment

Veronika Zora Novak is simply a daydreamer.

Scott Reid

BZtuvInCAAAJYab

Scott Reid (Twitter: @apwpoet) lives in Northern California, enjoys photography and nature, and curates the Albany Poetry Workshop

Helen Buckingham

constellations
of pink hydrangeas
temper the dusk

Helen Buckingham has been writing ku for the past couple of decades in Bristol, and has recently moved to Wells, the smallest cathedral city in England, deep in the heart of Somerset.

Sarah Thursday

Unnamed

Write about important things
things that move me
things that crush me

Write about hurricanes
and avalanches
the earthquakes of my soul

It’s the grit beneath
my fingernails
it’s the cartilage in
my vertebrae

I am driven to expose it
to pull it out
hold it up
to the light

I am only the messenger
of all the beauty
underneath the common face
beauty in the unheard voice

I hear it
I draw the letters
to form the words
to give it name

Sarah Thursday is a music obsessed, poetry advocate and documents her antics on SarahThursday.com

Laura Williams

autumn shelter …
a scarecrow’s coat pocket fills
with wren song

Laura Williams has been writing haiku and tanka since 2012. She lives in California, USA. http://www.foralovelything.blogspot.com

Chase Gagnon

if suffering
had a color…
it would be periwinkle
because purple sounds
far too real

only the light
of dwindling candles…
a wooden crucifix
clenched
in cold hands

goosebumps…
your breath, a memory
on my skin

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.

Caroline Skanne

INNER LIGHT.ed.photo (8) copy_edited-

Caroline Skanne, rochester, uk, obsessed with anything wild & free, she is the founder of hedgerow: a journal of small poems.