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The Bamboo Hut Autumn 2016 Journal of contemporary tanshi

Autumn 2016


The Bamboo Hut Autumn 2016 Editors Notes.

Welcome to another issue of the Bamboo Hut contemporary tanshi journal. This issue has the usual collection of tanshi from poets from around the globe. Some are from regular contributors and some come from first time contributors. When I initially started this journal I had no idea how popular it would become with short form poetry writers. May I take this opportunity to express my gratitude to all who have contributed over the last few years. Without you the Hut would have been dismantled long ago. Recently my wife and I spent a week in Scotland, Perthshire, to be exact. The scenery was magnificent and the spirit of the history, culture and natural beauty of this part of Scotland has furnished me with many ideas for future poems. I also had time to reflect on The Bamboo Hut's future. As an individual project it takes much time to read submissions, answer emails, prepare the journal and upload it. As a result sometimes I find myself chasing time to publish the journal and at times errors creep in. This also takes away from the enjoyment of this project that I initially had. As a result I have decided to make a few changes regarding submissions, submission opening slots and one or two other minor tweaks. The Bamboo Hut will continue as an outlet for short form poetry. It may not have the status of other journals of this genre but it will remain to publish tanshi for the world to read.

Steve Wilkinson, editor.


Anne Benjamin

travelling east beyond the Rockies vast white prairies stir up spaces in my imagination

deep purple, gold turquoise and blood red silks you give colours that ripple through my life

at dusk up on the terrace I wait‌ willing a breeze to rouse the tall ashoka tree


Paul Smith

it's the darkness behind the light in her eyes that draws me the most --lantern moon

I want to write of blossoms world weary and ragged just like me

in and out of the shadows a butterfly shares its dream with me

tired of this life this world this pain --I light another cigarette and watch the stars die


Paul Smith

SKIMMING STONES

this peony heart of mine --how much longer must it wait to bloom

skimming stones --the broken sky becomes a mirror for my mind

this river of tears --will I drown one day in the darkness of its kiss


Bernadette O'Reilly

his back turned I slip out the door into darkness

never saw the world from daddy's shoulderssister and I


Rachel Sutcliffe

a different song at sunrise start of spring

your laboured breath the screech of an owl at sunset

given the night yet still the candle flickers

the silent alley a chill wind howls through hollowness

dew drops drip from the daffodil’s head snow lines the shadows

another year still you smile at me from the frame


Rachel Sutcliffe

open door wind chimes sing in spring

sail boats bob on rippling starlight darkness splashes

sunlit stream the young pup runs after his reflection

still snowing I sink deeper into silence


Julie Bloss Kelsey

steel grey sky outside the window of physical therapy a yellow butterfly drifts on the breeze

this spring the old oak drops another leafless branch my father finally asks me for advice

book festival -the woman selling religious inspiration sits alone and scowls

Sunday sketch my daughter draws the woman I wish I could be

beneath the red chequered tablecloth of the local pizzeria we hold hands for the first time


Julie Bloss Kelsey

face slightly tipped peeking through dusty curtains I exchange glances with the moon

your hand on my shoulder our marriage measured in decades of the rosary

gentle warmth as she snuggles deeper inside my heart my daughter

blushing roses a day past full bloom -we curl up together on the worn sofa

after the bedtime story one by one up the stairs knowing which child by the weight of each footstep


Anna Cates

CATKU windy streets an orange stray missing fur tufts

bird calls a cat’s gifted vole on the asphalt

big dogs and fast cars? the world is wild stay with me

spring friendship the warmth of a paw pad

little hon a sexy cat walk and a fluffy bum


Anna Cates

cloudy sky a church cemetery aging with oaks in tall grass mossy grave stones

blue bird pecking grasses for a nest April’s plea: don’t drop a bomb; plant a tree red roses born of spring rain there’s no silver lining on a mushroom cloud

corn tassels wind chimes rust in August rain at the swimming hole waters rush

poetry group hot raisins in homemade bread outside, across the pond, spring rainbow


Miriam Sagan

thinking about the weaver, barefoot on Persian rug

curve billed thrasher on the mailbox, it’s two-note call arrives

we make a vow to not discuss politics until next time

quarrel over, play “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” for you


Elizabeth Spragins

one reckless moment— my mare and I jump a fence though shadows lengthen crisp leaves skitter across faded remnants of the road

oaks rim the hillside strewn with leaves and rotten logs moss on a boulder tickles my outstretched fingers as I perch undecided

black clouds ride spring winds along rows of the corn field— a stone wall ahead hides the bridle path beyond my mare and I go around cold pillows of fog blur the edge of the forest colors shift to gray as I step into the mist my feet remember the path

snow geese patrol rows of dead stalks in a corn field dotted with puddles my abandoned blanket holds the soggy picnic basket


Marietta Jane McGregor

neatening the shoreline lakeside snow halo moon the graveyard path lined with everlastings middle age left leg asleep before me a small boy turning cross-eyed eyeballs a butterfly brassica leaves the broderie anglaise of a butterfly

two foghorns bridge the bay lowering cloud the cat's stare crawling upwards night moths solar eclipse from here and there voices gentle breeze sedge lands part into sections positive/negative your face on the pillow summer lightning


Muskaan Ahuja

parched land the differences between you and me

brushing teeth my thoughts go in all the directions

nothing but an utter loneliness a fallen autumn

secret love in her mehndi design his initial


Celesine Nudanu

valentine night a single cherry blossom marks his exit

moonlit night falling pink blossoms cover my nudity

break in the wind the tips of corn stalks clear in the haze

moonless path even my shadow forsakes me

morning rain even more blue the horizon

I cried the night you left only once not because of the cold pillow but for the stars that refused to shine.


Celesine Nudanu

dandelion bloom I pretend to inhale your musk yellow now and then fading

wet morning steaming coffee and your musk which must I savour now I lack the will for both

dark clouds billowing curtains close his days I watch, helpless as his breath fades with my memories


Ruth Asch

Earthernware eyes warm, unpretentious, shining - waiting to be filled.

If we stare down from the bridge long enough, we might just turn life upside down.

The wind writes on windows with raindrop ink in Arabic.

The man dressed in white has eyes for nothing but gold; will not see doves.

Jealous,I revel in leaf-flames. Love's sap drains; my heart stripped stark as the trees.

Sparkling shrine of snow; skin painted red, white, blue, I sacrifice my hands.


Richard St. Clair

growing old but still clinging to the follies of a youth l never had and will never have when will the victims be redeemed twisted in the ashes of their dying only a buddha can cure the depths of my suffering in dreams alone do I know my deepmost self the fruits of being rich are not for me the daystar comforts my light burden treetop cameo a skylark organizing its feathers ruffled by the rude gusts of early spring

I'm worlds apart from the struggling billions who thirst for clean water I sadly muse over my cup of gourmet coffee


Richard St. Clair

news from afar more casualties numbness overcomes my heart and my meandering mind

fueling the fire a harsh north wind in bitterest cold the midnight skies ablaze with a fearful glow

each word a pearl each thought a diamond in the rough


Richard St. Clair

she is beautiful my schizophrenic friend in her own way she is enlightened living in an enchanted world

the gated petting pony at the state fair just enough head for me to stroke

horrible memories turned into a beautiful dream so sweet upon waking so sweet the resolution

after a day of dissociation rhododendron blossoms! my heart is lifted at last


Malintha Perera down by the river where the flow thins my toe plays with a fallen plum listening to you recite poetry so now when the moon is on a branch you join and hug me from behind

and when I cry so hard into my pillow the spring rolls back into the sea in search of a dropped moon

after all my talk with the howling moon you had been crying silently with the daffodils

it was the last time I saw him with the mala beads the wisteria hangs broken

the birds are early today about how things pass away I smile and shush you as you talk in your sleep the blue sky against white clouds when have I wanted you so much


Eva Joan

the old park bench under the lantern heart-tattooed

feeding squirrels between oblique tombstones unbroken stillness

wasteland a train whistles into the stillness

cold spell in her voice memories

in the courtyard whispering leaves under the broom

ocean blue the mirrors of your soul thin ice breaks


Michael Jewell

Once I've had a night of sleep I will try again starting with a fresh sheet of paper--it can't be this hard to say what I feel

Warnings repeated by the door-to-door preacher words that bother me days later--the relentless beat of my windshield wipers

Ask me if I care. I couldn't care less. Give me one good reason why I should. I've already heard this story too many times.

Two letters she sent dated three days apart came at once and I wished the second in which she changed her mind had not been written

She learns the Top Ten by heart--memorizing all the easiest chords to accompany herself on a rent-to-buy guitar

Saigyo Hoshi writes to a person we can't see or perhaps he talks to himself--seeing his own face slip through clouds like the moon


Michael Jewell

Juniper bonsai costing just nine ninety-five waits on my table the man at the garden store said to mist it once a day

The stone Amitabha smiles on a pair of teenage girls wearing their silk kimonos: chrysanthemum flowers tilting in the breeze

A Navaho youth just off the Reservation swears at the driver who kicked him off the bus--waves his fist at the empty world


Bruce England

Answering the phone my uncle thinks I’m his brother

Back home I clean a haiku off my arm

Empty bag still in shape of wine bottle

A fat dog lopes across the floor the face of a seal

Her first nose on the face of her daughter


Sharon Koshy

Instinct

My Guardian Angel was cut Slaughtered and dismembered By Fate And the unsettling of the feathers Went unnoticed.

Mayflies

I had mayflies in my stomach Soiled by the dust of my decaying blood They dwelt in my ghost Too tired to fly, too tired to fight They believed in nothing No conviction, no hope.


Elizabeth Alford

before the fall we munched happily on branching fruit planting the seeds we spit out champagne sunset— we toast to our shared secret first christmas without him we take down the angel imprints in the snow and a rustle in the brush— but the doe is gone leaf fluttering shuddering free falling in love with the trees new calendar… flipping through the seasons sunflower… to see god's face and live


Jesus Chameleon

he grand cattail plants in marshy swamps yield useful resources born from tradition sweeter than its sweetest roots

distant city noise behind a needy man's flat cries of school kids sound like waves crashing on coral rock as I sleep

lonely wind between tall buildings air whistles at high pitches that sound like the song of heavenly angels


Ben Moeller-Gaa evening rain the emptiness of the old cat’s bed atop the telephone pole a morning dove keeps calling after the storm grass rising through the fallen fence before the storm the thunder of lawnmowers grandpa’s bible the verses he underlined the verses he didn’t the silence between bursts of air conditioning walking in the park the familiar faces of strangers heckled by starlings over breakfast a red tailed hawk last light of day the biker band plays a ballad the pause before the light turns green i become a deer


DJ Tyrer

Heat mars evening Comfort, coolness, both absent Wish winter’s return

A persistent cough Staccato splutters on bus Vehicle rattles Passengers turn heads away Disgust mingling with their shame

Syria Plaything of the world Season after season dies Still no end in sight Power politics and drones People form a human tide


Jennifer Hambrick

heat wave even the squirrel lies still turtles on a log stare into the doctor’s waiting room the neighbor’s recycling bin won’t fit in his overstuffed garage power walk – stopping for a snail on the gravel path hairstylist nattering on about being an introvert should i take the job or not? window frost after the funeral the dog barks at the wind Grand Tetons – memories of adolescence double choir – morning birds harmonize with their echoes tanning with the grass in summer sun


Anthony Rabang first summer rain earthy smell wraps the nipa hut

harvest moon a golden apple snail reveals itself

Valentine’s my date emerges on a potter’s wheel

silent night the only thing that resounds my voice

heavy after today's toil

the old farmer marks his calendar strawberry moon

my beaming face every morning sunrise


Lavana Kray

I feel like an invertible device in your hand… the sand is stuck in the hourglass’ neck

Children around the monk… they ask him how can wild mint be tamed?

The train conflates different shadows in a single one; the scent of a lost scarff woos butterflies

The wheat field smell sweeter on a hot day ; I change my t-shirt with the scarecrow's


Christina Sng

hollow reed drifting in the river how I meander through life

why we hurt the ones we love butterworts

wild flowers packing away the remnants of my youth

harvest season weight of the world on me

rolling hills the shoulder ache that won’t go away

dark clouds trying to find the silver lining

when everything is broken baby’s breath


Christina Sng

SCREAM IN THE GARDEN Scream in the garden! My girl comes running. "Small bug," she admits, with a sheepish look then a cheeky smile.

LOVE "I have too much love so I must give some away,� said Jade, as I kissed her good night at bedtime one day.

TEN YEARS Ten years I wrapped you both In my arms as we slept You dreamt of milk And beautiful worlds You constructed yourself


Richard Stevenson

first cup of coffee— wake of a speed boat unzips the bay

no scarf, no pipe? even our snowman has quit!?

“Deer Resistant” the garden centre sign says Alas, deer don’t read

half a world away our daughter Skypes to show us her new tattoo

the price of freedom? on the back of his neck a bar code tattoo

depressing the way the St. John’s Wort takes over the flower bed


Anna Goluba Jazzy time... Drops of sound Lighten the night

Foggy twilight... Today slowly Becomes a memory

Full Moon In the lamplight A closed book

Closure... I write a letter I'm not going to send

As I click on them For a moment They become alive... Fashion models On a website

Hot air trembles Changing all the shapes So I can only guess What's getting closer to me... My future lover Or just another phantom


Joy McCall

The Stream she sits on the riverbank weeping the water flowing by pays her no mind there is a loneliness in rivers they never stop long to speak or sing they flow on called by the sea their master the unfathomable mysterious deep she thinks of asking the riverman take me downstream that I may find my lost dreams in the end she stays on the bank as the boats go by and river-birds, and hours and days and years


Joyce Joslin Lorenson

earthy autumn scents repeating drum roll of a pileated woodpecker

silent winging of swallows leaves banked against the abandoned barn

shattering a dream the unsweetened song of a coyote

garden ripe the low drag of a woodchuck's belly

murmuring twist of migrating birds night deepens

free blowing summer's chaff the horse's impatient stomp


Margaret Owen Ruckert

a lone lizard sits among the flowers its dainty feet with exquisite toes— I recognise the pattern

more grubs on the coriander I’ve nurtured from last year’s seeds— my dreams eat me away

marching sideways my cucumber vine with spiky leaves formidable thirst an unlikely conqueror

my climbing vine has grown cucumbers by the kilo now I watch the leaves grey – so this is old age

late shadows tattoo the footpath where I walk pushing my body against the stamp of age


Margaret Owen Ruckert

on my arm a grasshopper jumping green— my new shoots after retirement

wild storm clouds tear across the sky threatening rain and when they depart threatening sunshine

enjoy a cruise around the harbour snap all the sights but have you really captured the forty-plus day

to be or not to be partners in a wireless generation is not in question

as we approach a heritage area out of wifi range everyone is making one last connection


Dave Read

morning train the steady hum of small talk

old fence the neighbour's shadow crosses our yard

dream of flight I spread the wings of my hammock

sundown an overripe mango falls from its tree

rain drops a wheel barrow fills with rust

a puddle the sun drys its reflection


Dave Read

cracked ice the river opens moonlight

nightfall in the window her reflection

finger paint sunlight spreads across her shirt

southern breeze the curve of a grass blade weighted with seed


Madhuri Pillai

breathing sunshine the cat on the fence if only... he turns away from the window and licks his paw

pallid sky in winter hues on the barren tree belting out the blues the magpie songstress

the dog walker under her frayed hat her cherry lipstick the random cafe poet we cheer on saturday nights

solitude in the amber glow of the lamp only the muted taps on the IPad as the poem unfurls

saturday night sneaking in from over the fence the strains of a song tripping down the memory lane recapturing a faded youth


Madhuri Pillai

juicing... the slow trickle of liquid amber in the winter garden the citrus tree's orange glow

her fortieth she blows out the candles a silent tear was it yesterday she held my hand on her way to school..

dog park weaving through the leaves a moonlit breeze as we turn towards home a kookaburra farewells


Judit Katalin Hollรณs

raindrops on barbed wire the opalescent rhythm of mortality

corn silk moon a new layer of grey in my hair

last chemo a spoonbill grazes mist over the pond

shooting stars fade into dreams on my eyelids flying solo feathers flake off one by one the swan maiden inside me


Debbie Strange

believing you were my bellwether I followed every footstep sinking deeper into the mire

where are you my fair-weather friend have you left for sunnier climes, grown weary of my rain

at the first slow swell of violins these tears that seep into my mouth and quench my thirst

inheriting her jewellery chest I wonder about the secrets she had yet to tell

calluses on my fingertips musical scars that bleed every time I strum our duet


Debbie Strange

at the base of this volcano cinnabar our pilgrim cheeks blaze with revelation

don't sell me anti-ageing creams the lines upon this canvas my life's masterstrokes

over time every mountain sinks back into the ocean as must we all


Tom Sacramona

sweeping up the onion skin layer looks at me

abstraction in black & whitenothing is black and white

two of the leaves become butterflies, they all do

feeding deer a monarch butterfly through the fence

the bee's shadow hole in the ozone layer

buck moon the blue and unripe tomatoes


Keitha Keyes

in hospital the zombie hours of sleeplessness are filled with germs of new ideas for tanka

with the dawn I peg out my problems one by one ... as the line begins to sag I need to find another prop

I’ll remember your smile of yesterday fly little sparrow fly

will it be thumbs up or thumbs down for my submission‌ this gladiator waiting


Keitha Keyes

Sex Matters their love just now consummated a redback sacrifices himself for her eating pleasure I find out some Indonesian boats are male or female … the more I want to write the more there is to learn about

In Vogue tucking my trouser legs into my socks — not a fashion statement survival with a puppy the young tourist with his head shaven except for a topknot — fashion with a twist


Keitha Keyes

Cruising a dandelion frolics on the deck of our ship and lands on the bar — I make a toast to gypsies sunbathers beside the pool turn over to do the other side ‌ medium rare


Steve Black

the fallout after the storm the new fence already higher

asleep under a tree i can think of no place better plenty worse

looking at it from her side the cracks she could no longer ignore

shuffling in slippers the rain soaking through down to the shop arcade for my daily bread to a soundtrack not my own


Steve Black

the train I didn't see coming on request no flowers

money for nothing if you ask me my fellow devotee mutters under his breath in the meditation class

separate lives after love he rolls away from himself


Valentina Ranaldi-Adams

a maiden with cascading hair dances in the photograph a matron with thinning hair remembers

stars shine far from artificial lights secret lovers

summer solstice a strawberry moon towing expectations

bouncing ball her emotions rise and fall

garbage truck remnants of problems hauled away


Guliz Mutlu

Once alone‌ I like mondays and cherry red

the chestnut tree mom back home in the rain

a handful of stars the clouds rolling but not for me

summer rain I weep for me right on time


Robert Witmer

origami class Issa's fly in funhouse mirrors

the wild birds turn and go over her grave a cypress stands alone

her smile through the window new moon

a clap of thunder pollywogs wiggle in dark water

midday sun black-bladed shadows cleave back into their trees

atop a skyscraper a crane suspends the full moon


Marilyn Fleming

black keys on a white picket fence the spaces where finger-like tendrils of wisteria play

river stones sinking to the bottom see no reflection the mirror turned backwards she thinks I’m her mother

a ragged red fox fleeing the hen house— our bandanas when I was Gene Autry and you were Roy Rogers

song sparrows scavenging for crumbs— street music passersby linger drop coins in the hat

water lily asleep beneath the ice cracks at the mouth her breath mists the air— spring’s promise snaggletoothed


Marilyn Fleming

cat in my lap I sit on the porch— sun squatting low the blink of an eye turns day inside out

how the willows bend while weeping —manic wind

parting the blinds —all the stars between her lashes

afternoon sun turning cartwheels windmill shadows

her empty bed left undone— new moon


Mark Gilbert Thud with a twist of the wrist you pluck a pear from the tree then a thud as another one drops and another birthday forgotten

Patio a copper leaf spins around stainless steel chair legs, settles in the dead spot where the cigarette butts come to rest

this boulder has crashed onto the heather like an old sedan from the last ice age

polling day poplar leaves are falling

inkmarksonpaper no advertising in these three lines

badger's corpse slumped across the dotted white line in/out referendum


Leonardo Lazzari

autumn evening the sound of rain is a lullaby


Martha Magenta

I remember our last goodbye on the beach how your footprints filled with rain

the jasmine spreads over the garden with abandon my hair unfurls unrestrained on your pillow without you

drawn to your scent I linger in your caress and wonder will I disappear if you stop dreaming me

training corps marking time with style blue mink stockings bomber jacket, skirt we made love not war

you call me from the far east this day I watch a leaf fall from your tree

I try to put the words of the wind in my poem this windswept place reminds me of you


Martha Magenta

the life buoy detached from its moorings frolicking in the waves we catch and return it to its chain wondering if we could feel so free

dream of a cuckoo calling my heart an empty nest since you left

sometimes a shimmer on the stair a trace of your scent lingers in my memory and fills the air I breathe

crows caw announcing the day in the stark dawn light my soul lingers with you your memory follows behind me


John Han

spring rain… the clarity of a rose petal’s veins rice-planting season the frogs silenced by nightly rain

a lesion found there rises a legion of thoughts

hotel insomnia traffic noise interrupted by a crow a bird lands on the podium all smile even the opponents war front above the grenades Dora The Explorer morning mist the futility of writing a death haiku reclining Buddha… I take a pill of Melatonin fat Buddha’s smile— mom and her baby girl take a selfie dog barking words spoken in tongues


Ivan Randall

first snow creates a dreamlike landscape the rocking horse cowboy rides

splendid night tide surging against the reef vivid memories of being nursed in my mother's arms

winter moon coping with grief spooked by a thumping heart the herd stampedes buffalo jump

wings beat for millennia... the fluttering of her hummingbird heart

swamp harrier spotted hovering over the freshwater marsh feeding moorhens scramble for cover in the reeds and grasses

ornate lorikeet born at the edge of the rainforest I remember the lines on Nona's careworn face & her love of ornithology


Ivan Randall

ten days outbound the girl crew members go topless seabirds grow fewer spellbound, we change course for some mythical isle

birdsong drifts across the lake through the morning mist... dreams of flying

cool Baguio noon trash scattered along the green slopes


Theresa A. Cancro

leaves falling in afternoon sunlight – oboe solo

shadows among broken antlers – winter sunset

scent of snow – the silence of a birch forest

summer shower – the clatter of prayer beads against the pew

old friends catching up on the porch a katydid chorus

newspaper left on a park bench – raindrops fading

a swallowtail brushes my hand – wedding ring shadow


Theresa A. Cancro

baby toes – an African violet outgrows its pot

fall morning – a sparrow picks seed from my footprint

sun shafts – our toothbrushes lined up together


Susan Burch

Fired from Home Depot for a tattoo of ISIS on his lipinked four years ago the name of his ex joining him outside she tries to hold his hand but he pulls away her touch sandpaper on his skin dragged up a tree by a leopard the atheist who suddenly believes in hell putting glass shards inside my bound feet step by step I hobble towards your ideal beauty on the anniversary of your death, I draw a chalk outline – your heart inside mine unable to sleep I try to diagnose all my aches and pains worse than a nightmare all the possibilities… finally deleting the emails I saved from Faith – for 6 years I thought our friendship wasn’t over…


Collaborative Poems


the bridge

on the bridge dropping Pooh-sticks into the stream part child, part woman : the river between the banks the skipping stone hits the farther bank – someday I too will cross the bridge, enter the forever wood

the stone

in the clutch of oak roots a sunken tombstone with my name – the expiration date blurred here in these woods a broken lichened stone ... now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace

the slipper a damp patch wild mushrooms and nettles gather sticks and light the fire I'm hungry a lady’s slipper in utter solitude I pause, would linger long, but I’ve a chore to do

Larry Kimmell & Joy McCall


the charm damping down the fire sitting against an oak my hand settles on moss and earth and ... a dirty old coin an ancient loss our good luck charm on this forest trek the only coinage flint for fire, the skill to use it

the voice grey as bark the strange owl blinks and disappears – tree speaks and we are spell bound what voice is this -- who steals my gold? a sudden chill rises from the ground blood runs cold

the unspeakable it is best to turn away and not look back there are pale lights dancing up ahead to advance or to hide – what would the night creatures do ? the owl, the fox, the shape-shifters, the unspeakables

Larry Kimmell & Joy McCall


wintergreen crawling through inky-dark underbrush, the scent of wintergreen – teaberries! for herbal tea we stuff our pockets with leaves by the night-fire the heavy pot rainwater berries and sugar fermenting ... oh, breathe deep!

grace the fallow doe comes closer, stepping from the brush out of the shadows sniffing the air silently following her cream-draped fawn – at a nothing they dart away such grace always just beyond our grasp

cool water dawn – we have come through the night, we drink cool water from cupped hands a golden fish watching us glides away slow into the reeds bubbles rise

Larry Kimmell & Joy McCall


the light walking away again that uneasy sense we have missed the thing that matters the guiding light the path forks – we stand where others have stood before – what say you—right to the heart of the forest dark ?

broken doll deep in the forest a boot print and a broken doll is there nowhere someone hasn’t been before me ? the cracked doll still cries 'mama' and up ahead heavy footfalls stop and turn back

running, hiding shaking off the cobwebs and moss and empty fears I run ahead calling - come! making myself slender as a sapling I hide crossing my fingers that no bogey man appears

Larry Kimmell & Joy McCall


snagged look! that bit of red yarn snagged on the iron weed thorns – haven’t we been here before ? going round in circles we gather the purple flowers to leave a trail

lost I will mend my skirt when we get home the jagged tear reminds us pay attention to the path when we get home? at this rate we’ll be lucky to find a gingerbread house

Larry Kimmell & Joy McCall


guppies enough about sex oh but the colour of those flirting tails

still fireplace death is not the end smoke rising, a slow prayer to the moon feet up in the recliner time trickles away turning the hourglass beginning again all week the sun she waited for bedridden he opens the window lets the light in

caramel vista you can't always take language literally blueberry sky vodka over ice (blueberry sky is a rock group and a brand of vodka) Robert Epstein & Joy McCall


Pilgrim’s Way first rays of sun, on the monastery steps a blue-tongued lizard

slippered feet cross worn stones flickering shadows outdoor shrine… on the raked gravel random footprints

voices singing songs of praise … pilgrims passing

meditating ... the flapping flight of cormorants

Samantha Sirimanne Hyde & Marilyn Humbert


Icarus

blessed by twin moons his ship soars ... Icarus glides the stellar-stream

history echoes solar wings spread star questing to escape the labyrinth of my ancient race

he follows the comet’s tail mapping worlds ringed with ice beneath a red-eyed sun

knowingly fingers of knowledge dance across the controls ‌ a master of cosmography

he is a sailor, explorer, mathematician in the void his voice sings hymns of divine numbers

Marilyn Humbert & Andrew Howe


heat rising shivers set in my nose runs faster than an athlete towards the finish

constant motion of feet in dawn light racing sunrise for that elusive prize – accolades of a nation

driven to succeed for all brings pleasure – expectations of many prove positive

yesterday I was the leader of the pack … now bureaucracy hounds my heels

sniffing blood in the water surrounded sanctuary no longer – career suffocated

Frances Carleton & Marilyn Humbert


red and gone

from a distance rain dripping from eaves silently in the heart it's another matter listening to the church bell striking midnight my soul rises from sleep and comes to sit with you

sitting above, on the ceiling waiting she whispers, it will come dear heart, it will come

so small the pale feathers drifting down so quiet the song 'someday my peace'

a song of so many words rising harmonic wings red, red and gone

Don Wentworth & Joy McCall


painting

white suds over cast iron pans from the window watching what looks to be my life in technicolor

green moss on the patio bricks the softening of my own sharp edges

new moon: smell of freesia smell of lichen reclining on the veranda with coffee

yellow sun is rising, not me I'm setting my weary head down to day dream


edge of midnight thin sliver of a May moon crash of waves against the coast

all these colours running together let the picture paint itself .. all will be well

Matsukaze & Murasame


a scattering of seeds

the ancient smiles of my Sami ancestors just like hers kinfolk, down the ages over the high seas the bond of sisterhood not in our genes but in the songspun helices of words hearing the music of circling spheres far far away and deep within me a high sweet singing a lifetime seeking those tiny voices calling me further into the wood . . . sunbeams in an empty glade slowly the toadstools come up from the peat as always, circling pale and wan and silent I lie on a bed of moss beside the brook . . . eye-to-eye with water seeking a way to the sea Basho's frog jumps water-splash on my face I close my eyes and I'm far away among the tall dark pines


squirrels scattering seeds across the earth kith and kin in root and branch

Joy McCall & Jenny Ward Angyal


pulling together

to weave a new garment first unravel the threads of the old my old cloak hangs in tatters about me— the texture of time, the holes left by love patching my skirt with handkerchiefs from Japan the old poet keeping me tidy 'what doesn't kill you . . .' said Dad, mixing fiberglass resin . . . the old Morris Minor more rust than car

Claire Everett, Jenny Ward Angyal, Joy McCall


Sunday afternoons playing hide and seek I always choose the attic room you always find me

I hear them play down dark stairs another land late night card games were not for us

hard to recall the old campsite harder still to recall the way her touch made me feel

making us glow orange canvas in midday sun his shadow falls pulls me away

so many tracks through forest pines whichever one I take

my destination is the same Skeleton Wood

finding wild orchids in the copse behind our close we knelt down discovery came before understanding Tim Gardiner & Alexandra Davis


Haiga Section


Elizabeth Alford


Elizabeth Alford


Elizabeth Alford


Debbie Strange


Debbie Strange


Debbie Strange


Mark Gilbert


Mark Gilbert


Ernesto P Santiago


Ernesto P Santiago


Ernesto P Santiago


Joyce Joslin Lorenson


Joyce Joslin Lorenson


Joyce Joslin Lorenson


Marietta Jane McGregor


All our words and all our thoughts unite in poems In such a heart as this all things can be overcome.

Steve Wilkinson

The Bamboo Hut Autumn 2016  

The Bamboo Hut is a journal featuring tanshi poetry from around the world. Tanshi includes haiku, senryu, tanka, gogyoshi, dodoitsu and ryuk...

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