Featured Poet – Chad Lee Robinson
straightness of the bean rows—
a simple nod
from my father
shooting star
the span of her hand
across my chest
Fourth of July
a rodeo clown
carries out the flag
whirling snowflakes—
a Lakota elder
passes the pipe
Father’s Day—
eating apple slices
off the blade
Chad Lee Robinson is the author of three haiku collections: Pop Bottles (True Vine Press, 2009); Rope Marks (Snapshot Press, 2012); and The Deep End of the Sky (Turtle Light Press, 2015). He has been writing and publishing haiku and related forms for nearly 20 years.
leaning
into one another …
empty nest
– Neena Singh
birdsong ~
my death poem
still a draft
– Andrea Cecon
new coin …
the beggar returns
an old smile
– R. Suresh Babu
short-lived remission …
the scent
of wild plum
– Angela Terry
new resolutions
in the corner of my room
old cobwebs
– Agus Maulana Sunjaya
doves on the roof
my vaccination
just scheduled
– Meik Blöttenberger
bamboo wind—
she proposes to him
in her mother tongue
– Hifsa Ashraf
our first date
my favorite shoes
wet with dew
– David He
sweet jasmine
a twilight breeze tickles
my lace curtains
– Dottie Piet
wind-blown weeds
evening bicycling
with my sister
– Srinidhi Senthil
perfected
by a child’s laughter
the Zen garden
– Marcus Larsson
wearing them
makes me younger …
snowflakes
– Peter Newton
the trail in the duckweed leads to a duck
– Annie Bachini
first Christmas
an ant walks into
our gingerbread house
– Ryland Shengzhi Li
spring morning
a hint of mischief
in her hazel eyes
– Manoj Sharma
spring thunder
Siri’s suggestion
not what I asked
– Polona Oblak
black mic clipped
on the reporter’s collar—
milkweed
– Lenard D. Moore
silent looks
sharing petrichor
under a dripping umbrella
– Cristina Povero
again a privacy issue spring wind
– Cherie Hunter Day
lockdown
meeting each other
in circles
– Nisha Raviprasad
active shooter
all the marbles
we lost
– Marilyn Ashbaugh
widower
left without a word
black ice
– Ron Scully
winter
the dark side
of my life
– Maria Concetta Conti
paper guillotine
no word sharp enough
for sudden loss
– John Hawkhead
solitude
before curfew ends—
house jazz
– Lenard D. Moore
all the stars
I’ve never wished on …
winter wind
– Angela Terry
seaside blues
my beer bottle blows
a b-flat
– Stephen Toft
drought in an old man’s eyes the color of dust
– Ferris Gilli
Seurat’s painting
the countless spots
of rain on the glass
– Jean-Louis Chartrain
coffee brewing
a blackbird skims
a roof of snow
– Diana Webb
interrupting our debate
about minimalist art …
frog calls
– Julie Bloss Kelsey
a small cross of pale skin
just above her cleavage …
flood tide
– Ferris Gilli
halfway there
that’s how far he’s gotten
to her bottom line
– Robert Epstein
after lovemaking
she brings up
her ex
– Nika
white lies —
I polish my kitchen bench
until it shines
– Anne Curran
gathering clouds
she steps outside
to take a call
– John Hawkhead
reconciliation —
the moon’s halo outshines
the moon
– Hifsa Ashraf
monastery ruins —
dried thistle blooms
in an altar vase
– Antonietta Losito
overtaking a hearse
the jogger
crosses himself
– Stephen Toft
Maundy drizzle
pink windflowers’
bowed heads
– Marietta McGregor
annunciation
what if Mary
said no
– Pat Davis
Metro on strike
an unknown face
transports me
– Jean-Louis Chartrain
the old sailor man’s salute
floating on the river
paper boats
– Mirela Brăilean
homeless man
arranges dollar bills
same way ’round
– David Oates
we drive south
listening to War and Peace
red haze of maple buds
– Kristen Lindquist
Guy Fawkes’
the bonfire
splutters on
– Helen Buckingham
autumn chill
the everywhichway
of bluebirds
– Laurie D. Morrissey
hill country
the dip in the mare’s back
snow-dusted
– Peter Newton
turning
a new leaf
worm moon
– Marilyn Ashbaugh
the slow drip
from a maple tap
distant glaciers
– Tom Bierovic
redwoods
for as long as possible
dusk
– Cherie Hunter Day
closed borders
travelling the corners
of my house
– Uma Anandalwar
vacation begins
my paper boat
takes the lead
– Bryan Rickert
pandemic walk
one mossy stone
then another
– Maya Daneva
fork in the trail
the tree that drew me
to the right
– Pat Davis
the moonlit river
his ashes
find their way
– Lorraine A. Padden
open casket
her hair parted
on the wrong side
– Stephen Toft
city garden
a blossom caught
in a web
– Brad Bennett
a laundry truck
at the hospice’s rear door
false spring
– paul m.
shattered windscreen
sweeping spring sunshine
to the curb
– Nick Hoffman
Holocaust museum
we can’t stay
long enough
– Marcus Larsson
Haiga – Lavana Kray
