Notes from the Gean · 2016-01-22 · Notes from the Gean: Haiku Monthly, July, 2013 Page 32 Night Swimming We speed through the moonlit landscape, his car, a high powered, cat-like

Notes from the Gean: Haiku Monthly, July, 2013 Page 1

no.21

July 2013


Welcome to Notes from the Gean:Monthly Haiku Journal

Brought to you by Gean Tree Press

featuring haiku, tanka, haiga, haibun, linked forms, micro-poetry & more.

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Disclaimer: Though different schools of thought may be expressed herein the views of contributors are not necessarily those of Notes from the Gean or Gean Tree Press.

Editor: Colin Stewart Jones

Cover image: Sheila Windsor

Overall content copyright © 2013 Gean Tree Press. All Rights Reserved.

Individual works copyright © the named artist/s.

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CONTENTS: Haiku p.4 Haiku p.5 Upon Receiving a Dangerous Diagnosis p.6 Haiku p.7 Pebble poems p.8 Haiku p.9 Haiku p.10 Village churchyard p.11 Haiku p.12 A Clarinet p.13 Haiku p.14 Haiku p.15 Diazepam, Etizolam p.16 Nitrazepam, Temazepam p.17 Haiku p.18 Haiku p.19 McDonald’s p.20 Tanka & Haiku p.21 Haiku & Tanka p.22 Haiku p.23 For a split second p.24 Haiku p.25 Haiku p.26 Haiku p.27 I swallowed p.28 Tanka & Haiku p.29 Tanka p.30 Haiku p.31 Night Swimming p.32 Naturally p.33 Along the pine trail p.34 On a ginko p.35 Haiku p.36 Steel pipe and cable p.37 face behind the fan p.38 6 watches p.39 Newspaper p.40 Haiku p.41 Haiku p.42 Haiku p.43 Back Page p.44


at last the honesty of waves Clive Oseman – England


over and over a lone fisherman casts his dreams Scott Wiggerman – USA

the old rowing boat slowly it sinks into the shore Bouwe Brouwer – The Netherlands


Upon Receiving a Dangerous Diagnosis: A Tanka Pentaptych

half a season that might be all that remains for a sailor who wrote a few poems ah, Shiki, did you feel your blood-red fate in five short lines as I do? Shiki went slow with all the time in the world to study the petals of wisteria falling on a February night blindness doesn’t seem so bad when I consider the fatal alternative I must go down to the seas again, to the sea where I was never lonely and thought I’d live forever

M. Kei – USA


buoy bell a lost gull's cries fill my shoes Deborah Barbour Lundy – USA

days of darkness— when did all my windows become mirrors? John Carley – England


Kris moon – Japan


waning moon I struggle with my shadow self Gregory Longenecker – USA

a laptop gnat looking for the light in a Bergman film Sara Winteridge – England


Tennyson’s recorded voice easy to believe he’s dead LeRoy Gorman – Canada

dad died communication unchanged Shirdog – USA


village churchyard— celandines and nettles join the stones Sheila Windsor – England


a crystal vase drained of water with a paper rose Jack Galmitz – USA

motionless a desiccated moth — the spring rains fall John Carley – England


A Clarinet The highest possible note played as from the knees, light beam improvised to light beam whichever way it blows. Daniel Tobin – USA


tenor sax bending his breath around the blues John McDonald – Scotland

it's all there inside this letter bamboo wind chime H. Gene Murtha – USA


summer love— I cut the paper just to cut it Adrian Bouter – The Netherlands

discussing wildness syrup runs over my waffles Jim Kacian – USA


Diazepam

Etizolam


Nitrazepam

Temazepam

Brendan Slater – England


working the ice cream we walk all the way back to yesterday Alan Summers – England

orange sky the taste of summer peeling back the day

Carole Harrison – Australia


an old couple in the red sipping beer Robert Epstein – USA

winter breeze . . . bits of humanity in the gutter Don Baird – USA


Anita Virgil – USA


when I say I don’t understand the world she tells me it’s a big rock and it turns around Owen Bullock – New Zealand

in the alley gentians cling to cracks in the wall Patricia Prime – New Zealand


finding privacy these alleys know the city Jack Galmitz – USA

in the passing train that steals my dream every night the faces of people I’ll never know Chase Fire – USA


layers of graffiti on a deserted boxcar winter wind

Richard St. Clair – United States

hot gravel road— a rusted mailbox with an open maw Adelaide B. Shaw – USA


Adelaide B. Shaw – USA


clock's ticking carrying in the still night; our packed bags Rod Lloyd – Australia

embers these old men who say they knew my father S.M Abeles – USA


all the things that pass me by . . .dandelions H. Gene Murtha

awake to envy Valerian blooms in the moonlight Susan Shand – England


midnight mockingbird Allen Ginsberg in my bed Kath Abela Wilson – USA

caravan swirls where cigarettes once ferried me Susan Diridoni – USA


Kath Abela Wilson – USA


I walk through a volley of words certain the truth lies within something unspoken Anne Curran – New Zealand

snow a tree branch leaves an impression Mike Rehling – USA


a life at the whim of bi-polar nothing like the sun on your baby blond hair the first time you touched grass Claire Everett – England

this new you after the diagnosis turning over tables in the psychiatric wing of your old mind Claire Everett – England


what do I know of a sparrow's heart— drifting clouds Dick Whyte – New Zealand

dusk gathering seagulls gathering dusk Dick Whyte – New Zealand


Night Swimming We speed through the moonlit landscape, his car, a high powered, cat-like thing, slinking through the curves and purring. Claire De Lune lilts from the CD player. He reaches out and touches my hand and I smile.

each star twinkle the sound of the piano There is conversation between comfortable pauses. We pass through a village. Streetlights illuminate a photo on the dashboard, the two of us, taken two decades ago. I look thinner; he has a lot more hair. So many other things have changed…The car makes a steep left hand turn and we weave into the valley.

full moon seen through passing trees some secrets we keep Eventually we arrive at the bridge and park. I watch him disrobe by moonlight, his naked buttocks glowing white as he enters the water. I throw off my clothes at the water’s edge.

close by the sound of wings beating

Violette Rose-Jones – Australia


Naturally An experiment: a summer of shunning gentleness and gentle people. A failure: to perform, reshape, rebirth whistling Dixie in the field and in fields, cantilevering to the possible; to “manifest" per manifesto, imperialism over spirochetes, loneliness, small thought.

a new economy I barter repose

Sabine Miller – USA


Kathy Uyen Nguyen – USA


Mike Keville – England


sky over white Bauhaus balcony black cat Freddy Ben-Arroyo – Israel

checkpoint at dawn— the field of sunflowers facing darkness Rita Odeh – Israel


John Hawkhead – England


face behind the fan the last sunlight on a mountaintop vanishes in another cloud a floppy-eared rabbit leaps deep down its hole "keep out" sign a ghost bat clinging to the other side a full waste paper basket the coded message unsolved fields of barley on close inspection the blush of creeping bindweed embarrassed the comely face behind the fan Max Verhart, Carmen Sterba & an’ya – USA


Johannes S. H. Bjerg - Denmark


Johannes S. H. Bjerg - Denmark


a certain age unrelated to falling mailboxes Scott Terrill – Australia

sleeping in the smell of rain on my dreams Matthew Caretti – USA


Gypsy violin . . . the wheat harvest sparkling with fireflies Tatjana Debeljački – Serbia

the rainbow’s yellow pretends the key of lemon

Susan Diridoni – USA


this perfect day exposed in 17 characters Susan Shand – England


Colin Stewart Jones – Scotland

Documents

Notes from the Gean · 2016-01-22 · Notes from the Gean: Haiku Monthly, July, 2013 Page 32 Night Swimming We speed through the moonlit landscape, his car, a high powered, cat-like