hedgerow #1

thrilled to bring you work from 14 different poets in the very first issue of hedgerow! the journal will be published every friday. comments, shares & likes are warmly welcomed, as are your submissions for upcoming issues. thank you for stopping by! with love & kindness. please enjoy…

Carole Johnston

in my dreams
I find Merlin wandering
among the hedgerows
I should have been born
inside a druid oak

once I was
a tree silvered
by the moon

you might find her
sleeping inside the yew hedge
the wild woman with
her rosary berries
she’s the keeper in the green

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.

Robin White

my tomboyishness


Robin White – artisan, gardener, beekeper at Wild Graces in Deerfield New Hampshire, founder and co-editor of Akitsu Quarterly.

Ronald Fischman

magical realism

drifting through breaking dawn a silken feathered
paintbrush dances its magic across ages
restoring color to rainbows, snow to mountaintops

parched soil opens a million mouths, in each a seed
the feathered wand spreads cool droplets
wildflowers of generations sing of their childhood

mountain lakes long since baked dry with sorrow
drink from clouds pregnant with seeded
raindrops. Weary farmers, I among them, splash, play

sadness dissolves into brilliant scales of species
long thought extinct. My own eyes glisten
in the rainbow, then dissolve into your own.

Ronald Fischman writes fiction, biography, and poetry in Philadelphia, PA. You can learn more about him at http://www.ronaldfischman.com.

Paula Dawn Lietz

Yellow Flowers of Innocence

Exhausted I laid on wild grass,
prairie and I common in our cycles.
Both burnt in this century, this society
this era of humanity.
This mess.
Only in the meadow dotted
with yellow did I allow myself to breathe.
To forgive myself of decisions
which society placed upon
my charred shoulders,
decisions not mine to bear.
When one does not belong
in this clusterfuck
it’s hard to call any place home.

Subconsciously I cradled
yellow flowers of innocence
as the drones flew overhead.


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

Pat Geyer

blind man
smells a rose…
he stops

remaining heat
surrounds a field of green…
orange circles day

autumn wind…
blue flag still waves
around the pond

queen anne’s lace…
white doilies in summer
border the meadow

i walk through fields on
paths lined with wildflowers…
oxeye sees the way

Pat Geyer lives in East Brunswick, NJ, USA. She is a published poet and amateur photographer.

An Mayou

i collect flowers
along the way


An Mayou lives in Boulder Colorado USA, she trained in visual arts and has been writing poetry for three years.

Ed Bremson


Give a boy a stream
and watch him find himself
among the water, earth and sky,
as his childhood drifts slowly by.
He needs no help or guidance.
It happens naturally
as it has since time began, or
since time
stood still.

Ed Bremson is an award-winning haiku poet who lives in Raleigh, North Carolina, in the USA.

Bill Waters

almost winter
a flock of starlings

Bill Waters (U.S.A.) enthusiastically posts his haiku and more at twitter.com/bill312 and billwatershaiku.wordpress.com.

Alan Summers

wet prints
the sun takes the dog

Milky Way Train
I bring my inner child
down to earth

the hunched heron
these blue shadows
out of slow sunshine

falling clouds
the snow gathering
bits of moon

gingerly pushing out…
micro civilisations

Alan Summers lives in Bradford on Avon, England, and is a Japan Times award-winning writer and a Pushcart Prize nominated poet, find more at: http://area17.blogspot.com

Pamela A. Babusci

deep autumn…
walking barefoot
on my mother’s grave

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Pamela A. Babusci is an internationally award-winning haiku/tanka & haiga artist.
She lives in Rochester, NY, USA.

David Agnew

‘We Need To Talk About The Rain’

Not the soft gentle rain
which drifts in from the sea
carrying with it both
scent and taste of the ocean,

not the wind driven rain,
horizontal in your face,
pushing you forward
in one direction only

not the downpours of rain
which bounce from the ground,
soak you from the bottom up
and from the top down,

not the thunder filled rain
which is best watched
from behind glass
as lightning streaks across the sky,

not the low cloud sort of rain
which obscures your vision
in directions making you
uncertain of where you are,

but the rain we walked through
that September evening holding hands
when we promised that next year
we would do this again.

Born in Northern Ireland David Agnew considers his poetry to be a continuation of the Irish tradition of story telling, his latest book ‘There are no such things as seagulls’ was published by Valley Press in 2012

Kathy Bowman

the first fluff of cottonwood falls
at twilight: suddenly
the little black mare trots through stars and galaxies.

Kathy Bowman, Joseph, Oregon, lead volunteer on Haiku Highway poetry adventure trail in Deschutes National Forest.

Veronika Zora Novak

wood smoke…
with each stride, closer
to stillness


Veronika Zora Novak resides in Toronto, Canada, her haiku, tanka and photo haiga have been published in various journals and books, during her downtime Veronika enjoys film, photography, karaoke, nature, and simply daydreaming.

Mike McGuire

Frail floral beauty –
so ragged at the edges
it’s almost human

Mike McGuire is from Limerick City, Ireland but has spent half his life in Australia, he posts poetry regularly on his blog http://michaelmcguire.com.au/ and enjoys Tweeting micropoetry when time allows – @MikeMcGuire_

previously published work

Pamela A. Babusci, the haiku ‘deep autumn’ previously published in: Winter Lotus 9 fall/winter 2009.