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Today I would like to welcome you to a special edition of the haiku pea podcast, Series 3 Episode 18. It’s special because it is written primarily by you, the community of poets who have become such an important part not just of the podcast but my life too. Thank you all.
For those of you joining us for the first time today, my name is Patricia and I bring you this podcast from a sunny, yet fresh Zürich, the little big city in Switzerland.
Some thank yous before I head off to read you the terrific haiku and senryu in the podcast today. First for the coffees that you donate through the orange button on the website. I’m so grateful to you for sending me coffee donations, it’s like a ray of sunshine when I get a message that a coffee is waiting and it means this month I could take my husband out and thank him for all the work he does for me on the site and for the journal, because as you know, with my neck problems it’s not always possible for me to use my computer. So thank you very much.
Another thank you to Josh Cleveland and his family for inviting me to take part in his haiku podcast. It was a treat for me and although I took part in a written form you can hear a little about me and why I started the haiku pea podcast.
One last thank you to all of you who bought the Summer journal whether in paperback or kindle format. Thank you. I hope you enjoyed it. The next one, Autumn, should be out by the end of October, but I’ll keep you posted.
I hope you enjoyed the reading by Ben Gaa on the last podcast, he will be back in the future to answer your questions and to give a couple more workshops. Remember if you would like to do a reading for us, just email me and I’ll get back to you and also let me know if there is someone you would really like to hear from on the podcast and why and I will try and get hold of them.
We’ll be starting another renku soon, let me know if you would like to take part.
Don’t forget to send me your 20 second videos and haiku, Pea TV Moments is still going strong on YouTube. Don’t miss out on your chance to be a star and if you have a minute, please subscribe to the poetry pea channel on YouTube, it would be most appreciated.
One last thing; look out for the topics for next year. I’m doing something a little different and changing the deadline dates. If you are on the mailing list you’ll get a mail with all the details, if you are not, please sign up, the form is on the website. The next topic is found poetry and of course you have until the 1st of October to email me your submissions. I’m collecting them and will be replying to your emails after the 24th of September so don’t worry if it takes me a little longer than usual, I’m not ignoring you, promise.
Previously published work:
You’re my heroine
Even though you’re full of it
Please–return to me
Richard Bailly
poetry soup 2019 About someone potentially lost to heroin.
circles of lichen
I thought we would have
more time
Debbie Strange
3rd Place
2018 Kaji Aso Studio Haiku Contest
dad’s ashtray
the conversations
we never had
Iiliyana Stoyanova from “Root” the British haiku society members anthology 2019
now showing
at the old drive-in—
weeds
Kathryn Bold
Modern Haiku 50.1
widowhood
day blurs into evening
into night…
Mary Kendall
Frogpong 43.1
Original haiku and senryu
between funerals
I pause
to repair my lipstick
Joan Barrett
wind
in the wildlife park
a s h e s
Christina Chin
pallbearing
the weight
of what’s already gone
Lorraine A Padden
grave site –
we help each other
cross the ice
**Janice Doppler
daybreak–
at the graveside
quarrelling with his wife
**Samo Kreutz
breaking waves
I keep writing the name
they erase
Vandana Parashar
prolonged ringing
I brace to hear
your voicemail
Kelli Lage
elements
devour the names
set in stone
Hannah Hulbert
haiku habit
counting syllables
in his goodbye note
**Jackie Chou
memorial service
a bird soars high
in the gathering dusk
**Bona M Santos
the blue jay and sparrow
share a tiny tombstone
storm damage
Barbara Carlson
do not ask why
just say goodbye
release with love
Richard Bailly
numb
she washes the sheets
shattered motherhood
Tracy Davidson
plum
falls on ground
miscarriage.
**Rose
miscarriage
still searching for her child
inside herself
**Maya Daneva
onion peeled
endless illumination
haiku weeps
Wayne Kingston
empty nest –
something of me
in the waning moon
**arvinder kaur
battered nest
all my siblings
in the wind
Jonathan Roman
Alzheimer’s
unexpectedly she plays
childhood piano tune
Giddy Nielsen Sweep
will we remember
jumping to the endless sounds
of youth going wild?
**Bryan Myers
Seven years on
The echoes of my screams
Die too
Richard Hargreaves
homesick
scent of sunlight
in mother’s hair
Veronika Zora Novak
hot steamy night
she lies cold —
in his absence
Linda L Ludwig
on the terrace
facing the sun
an empty chair
Prof RK Singh
her red bra
long after she left it
Rp Verlaine
piano practice —
what my fingers
no longer remember
Angela Terry
slanted sunlight—
swing shadows sway
on the fence
Elaine Wilburt
sandy shoreline –
forgotten buckets
bring back memories
**Bill Fay
childhood home
putting my memories
on the market
**Jennifer Hambrick
estate sale
closing down
a life
Valentina Ranaldi Adams
even as we talk
of childhood friends
winter rain
Richard Tice
summer rain
trying to remember
grandma’s voice
Tomislav Sjekloća
summer rain
no voice
but a face
Bisshie
man’s best friend
the water dish –
still full.
Laura Driscoll
instead of
a headstone
your dog bowl
Jane Berg
fireflies
one by one
go dark
**Bob Carlton
late summer
the evening shortens
to a blackbird’s call
Marilyn Ward
lying by the path
a bird’s dry dusty body
the silent dawn
Patrick Stephens
the cry of the gull
high above empty sand dunes
low autumnal tides
Sarah Bint Yusef
ibis circling
in thick morning fog
white on white
**Dawn Toomey
silent spring
i can still see
the birds
Robert Horrobin
i admire
the lovely fish tank
eating sushi
S Narayanan
by the road
armadillo’s shell
all his plans
David Oates
pillow talk –
my son asks for a pound
from the tooth fairy
Dorothy Burrows
incomplete smile
the tooth fairy
drops her shiny coin
Cyrille Soliman
old age home
the leaves fall
with no noise
**Neena Singh
ah, this complex life
inevitable losses
necessary gains
Andrew Syor
a sand Buddha
only the head is left
by the waves
Bakhtiyar Amini
sometimes
her voice on a breeze
a feather
Kim Russell
a bruise upon a bruise – sayonara
James Young
bomb blasts
doll survives
lifeless hands
Anjali Warhadpande
he dumps his hiking boots –
summits
he’ll never climb
**Peter Adair
broken nib
the i’s and the j’s
lose their heads
Srinivas S
night train
the window reflects
the rain inside
Zahra Mughis
crescent moon
my empty arms
a broken plate
**Eve Castle
dressed in rags
deft Little fingers
stich garments
Lekha Desai Morrison
becoming
another adult
another adult
**Alex Fyffe
revised resume
letting go
of old dreams
Kathleen Tice
camouflaged –
nestling in shingle
my missing keys
Jenni Wyn Hyatt
lost keys
i retrace
my steps
Pearl
unplugging from the
world is not the world’s loss-
it is yours
Ian Speed
when
the postman retires
who will speak to me
Roberta Beach Jacobson
child bride
the crushed petals
of a plucked flower
Rashmi VeSa
a week after
the mastectomy
bra commercials
Deborah P Kolodji
couch on the curb
someone takes
the “FREE” sign
Dan Burt
isolation
the rainy day
is silent
Rajeshwari Srinivasan
fog
and the sound of
lost birds
Mike Rehling
human touch
a hug or a handshake
please
RJ Tungsten
daybreak —
the world wallows
in disaster
Willie R Bongcaron
from her car
a masked friend waves
falling cherry blossoms
Doris Lynch
reaching for a face mask
the feel of summer
alters
Craig Kittner
front line casualties
nurses
replace soldiers
**Ronald K Craig
the magpie surveys
empty city sidewalks
faces behind glass
Trey Treeful
missing
the friendly obscenities
of the workplace
Mike Gallagher
At night we lie there
staring at the ceiling fan
regrets float on air
**Bruce Lomas
much to confess pale dawn
Richa Sharma
dead wind –
she opposes
reconciliation
Paul Callus
open door
the streetlight casts a glow
on an ending
Sarah Mahina Calvello
this morning
I choose solitude
Amaryllis
Dr Tim Gardiner
cloud shadow
passes over the sundial
in real time
Maggie Roycraft
long dry summer
the willow branch doesn’t
reach the river
Robin Rich
fresh snow
only the top
of Buddha’s head
Kristen Linquist
a green leaf
cast in the shade
no voice
Riham El Ashry
falling leaves—
the weight of each
life
m shane pruett
banks deposit dirt
into the swollen river
withdrawing ground
Beth Cusack
one colour
covering the garden
winter
Damir Damir
dry lake bed
the rainy season’s
unresisted path
Erin Castaldi
in my hair
the wind of waves…
summer dream
Daniela Misso
a swing
the old branch creaks
back and forth
**Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo
moonflowers
cool wind of twilight
…dawn approaches
BA France
dutiful routine
new flowers
for old
Rob McKinnon
a tree’s
last breath…
paper stars
Isabel Caves
the sun surrenders
to an awaiting sea
night and you are gone
Robert Quezada
deadheading roses
accidental bee run-in
one less bee
Linda L Kruschke
heavy rain
weeping willow
weeping
**JP Meredith
orchid
how calmly you leave
this earth
Tiffany Shaw Diaz
winter jasmine
we inhale the scent
of dying stars
Debbie Strange
soaking up
the now…nothing goes
down the drain
wendy c. bialek
So once again, my thanks to everyone, whether you submitted some work for today, or came along to listen. Don’t forget I put the podcast on Youtube now too.
It was lovely to have so many poets who were new to us today and if you are listening and were thinking of sending some work, please do. I’m generally quite nice. I know what it’s like to submit for the first time, so just put your work in the body of an email, take a deep breath and press send. You might just get some news that will make you smile.
Take care everyone until we meet again next month, the first Monday of October. And most importantly, keep writing…
I may not have everyone on the poet’s directory just yet, time might be against me, but please check and send me an email if I have missed you out, I will get there.
