Sunday, October 16, 2016

our worthy poetry! places/faces for our poems. . .

chosen by bear creek haiku's assistant editors Frosty and Tama
'that's us!  guess which is Frosty, and have a poem
            published in the next issue of bear creek haiku. . .'

a real sweetheart
of print poetry pub's, 
send poetry to
Peggy Dugan French
2486 Montgomery Ave.
Cardiff, California

Imitation Fruit Literary Journal does wonders with poetry- 
Eva Barrows, editor  ('and she has some wonderful kitty-cats!')
here's one of ours, and how she published and enhanced it. . .

                                                        artist Chalsea Walton

poet Catfish McDaris and Craig Scott have created 
a brand new poetry publication, 
                    a print zine, 3-4 times a year 
                                              now seeking your poems!
'work that opens eyes and minds. work that makes you stop; catches your breath; 
makes you see the world in a new way. strange/experimental. honest. raw. original.'


          Wild Plum - a haiku journal
wow, this online haiku and haiga poetry publication is simply
beautiful (and has been for a long time). . .
perhaps the loveliest online haiku site we have? ('what took us so
long to discover it?', muses Frosty)
ed. Gabriel Sawicki            

                              at the hayfield's edge
                              calm presence from a woodland
                              scent of aging green
                                                    (Tama's haiku)

        The Roaring Muse
brand new print pub. from Duluth, Minnesota
         a very favorite city: our family used to visit Duluth
and watch kids race home-made go-carts (no engines)
down Duluth's steep city streets toward Lake Superior
        classic scenery, blended with classic wipeouts
        'a bit cold and windy in the winter', Tama suggests,
        "and, a beautiful city. . .   and a beautiful publication. . .
                                                        Duluth, Minnesota

The Pink Chameleon on Line  accepting poetry until Oct.31,
a family-orineted small press, ed. Mrs. Dorothy Paula Frieda:      Tama: 'and a nice lady"

                      middle of the night
                      a thoughtful, radiant wife
                      what might you say now
                      years so quickly pass by
                      in this festival of us

 Episteme online journal of Bharat College of Arts and Commerce 
                          Kulagon, Badlapur, India
these worthy folk present/display the poets/poetry they accept for
publication honorably and with dignity - from their journal: 

and there's something extra special about sharing poetic space with those whose very names are poetic, ("and lovely", states Tama), such as Deepika Rani, Jumagul Suvonova, Khosiyat Rustamova
Up to three unpublished poems, short third-person bio., a passport-
sized photo (mine wasn't, they accepted it anyway) to: 
check out their website, partially to make sure I've listed what few details there are correctly - this submission period closes Nov. 11th

The Stray Branch Literary Magazine
'Shorter poems, edgy, darker material written, reflecting the heart & human condition known as existence, includes depression, mental illness, loss, sorrow, addiction, recovery, abuse, survival, daily existence, self struggles & discovery through words. Personal, confessional poems are welcomed & embraced here, rhyming poems okay, up to 6 poems in the body of the email or an attachment, no simultaneous submissions, previously published are fine.'

                                    founder/editor Debbie Berk
               poet, artist, dear friend Rex Sexton's Heartbreak Hotel:
Rex Sexton was a deep presence 
in The Stray Branch
'and how we miss him', 
state noble assistants 

Tama, how many more poetry publications, print and online,
do we want ('need', says Frosty)
to share with our friends?
'fifteen' -
heavens, not even to 
bear creek haiku, nor Whispers in the Wind,  Kind of a Hurricane
or Cheap Seats or the Romanian Pub. EgoPHobia
'Frosty', asks Tama, 'what do we know about Romania?'
'it's where the word romance comes from', Frosty's reply

umm, noble assistants, let's save the rest for
the post we'll create in a few days
                             it's time for treats!
                                                     (chorus of meows)

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen


Thursday, October 13, 2016

poets, their poems: George Held, David Sermersheim, Christina Sng, Mary Jo Balistreri, Joanna Weston, Karen O'Leary, Robert O'Rourke, Judith Partin-Nielsen, and! Bijoy Kumer Dubey!

Frosty and Tama, choosing favorite poems from the depths 
of bear creek haiku's in-between issues home (a size eleven shoebox) "someone's feet seem to be growing" states Frosty 
"and it isn't Judith's" says Tama. . . 

enough, already, 
assistant editors-
to the poetry!                                                                     

    Name Calling

    Folks who say Trump is like “Hitler”                                                    
    Think he’s a rabblerousing belittler;
    The Big Lie he’s mastered,
    Like Goebbels, that bastard,
    To make our Brown Shirts feel bitterer.

            George Held        New York   New York

"wow, good friend George 
doesn't mince words" says Frosty
"well, I don't know a single kitty-
cat who's going to vote for Chump,
and, Frosty, how come you didn't
run for president this year?"
"as you well know, Tama, the
editor of bear creek haiku
needs all the help he can get"
"too true, Frosty, too true. . ."



                       the pretentious

David Sermersheim    Westbrook   Connecticut

"David's poem works well with George's"
"true, Tama, true. . ."

"now, poetry from Christina Sing!",
insists Tama
Tama, her last name is Sng, even if it is pronounced 'sing' -
"but she makes my heart sing!"  

curled up with books
endless winter nights               first day of summer
spent in other worlds               a raven feather
                                        at the door

                   Christina Sng   Singapore

"We need a Jo poem!"  insists Frosty
  a Jo poem?
 "Mary Jo Balistreri poem!"

                    As the storm comes 
                    the bent-limbed oaks
                    offer shelter
                    to fluttering finches,
                    yellow-slick feathers
                    curled into
                    golden balls
                    of hope
                    in a deep rumble sky

                    Mary Jo Balistreri  Genesee Park  Wisconsin

assistant editor Frosty: 
"I'd like a poem written beside Shawnigan Lake!"
noble assistant, we have two

   a bench 
   on the cliff-edge
   soaring eagles

                           a bluebird
                           on the fencepost -
                           sunrise aria

  Joanna Weston  Shawnigan Lake  British Columbia

Tama:  "let's publish poems by Karen O'Leary"
(editor of Whispers in the Wind)
"and she'll feel better!"

sepia pages
peace settles 
between the wrinkles

                                my tears drip
                                into a poem

      central farm time
      milking the cows before
      the cock crows

      Karen O'Leary  West Fargo   North Dakota

and Robert O'Rourke, mr. lone crow, loved dearly by so many, 
now knocking on heaven's door

"doesn't have to knock", states Tama, "the door is wide open"

above created by our Robert O'Rourke   Fort Collins  Colorado

                         sails furled now
                         his small boat
                         moving ever
                         so slowly toward
                         the horizon, each
                         out breath bringing
                         the face of his
                         Beloved Jesus
                         ever closer

      for Bob, from Judith Partin-Nielsen    Longmont  Colorado

 "now we're crying," from Tama and Frosty
  noble assistants, we all are

 we have one more poem, from  
 Bijoy Kumar Dubey  West Bengal   India


Hari Om,
The break of sound
And it splitting,
A U M,
A U M,
Hari Om,
Om, Om,
Hari, Hari.

The creation,
The flashing sun for the first time
And the things bathed in sunshine
And the break of sound
Doing the rounds
With the twitter and bird notes
Resounding and vibrating,
Vedic seers and hermits
Taking a bath into the river
In the morning
And chanting,
Om, Om,

Hari Om.

Tama: "we're all seers and
hermits in this river of life"
Frosty: "lovely, Tama"

Tama, Frosty, Judith, let's have our treats 
and hold Bob in our hearts
even as he enters the 
greatest embrace of all

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen



Tuesday, October 11, 2016

P C K Prem, and, lovely Wang Ping!

discussion between assistant editors Frosty and Tama. . .

Frosty:  "often, we receive poems we aren't sure how to approach, yet they have an intrinsic something that speaks to us". . .

Tama:  "and it seems this something, even if it isn't where we might go with our own creative endeavors, is from someone(s) who have obviously accessed and owned the creative impulse within the essence of being"

together:  "and! we've discovered a poem, Syntax, by poetess Wang Ping, that speaks directly to our 'needed' discussion":

She walks to a table                                                
She walks to table

She is walking to a table
She walk to table now

What difference does it make
What difference it make

In Nature, no completeness
No sentence really complete thought

Language, like woman,
Looks best when free, undressed.
Since my birth, silence has been my only weapon.
Now it no longer suffices
The need to speak
leaves me restless like a hunger.
My words may not say what I mean,
but they're my only words.

the poem that finally, thankfully, initiated this discussion and
our discovery of lovely Wang Ping is by P C K Prem,
from Kangra, Himachal Pradesh, INDIA. . .

I wanted to write a poem                                                 
on bed gasping and sighing,
waiting to be put on dialysis 
anytime in gentle diagnose
in efforts to hasten mercy death 
in a dark room.

Old, sad, tired and unwanted 
I would turn out in old age
a truth is so cutting I fear.

I was a hungry young man once
ate everything,
a journey from rocks to flesh
a desperate hunger existed within,
drank like a fish 
as passions boiled like animals 
and I was dumb…

I lived like a lord 
and a king beyond history 
without a crown, 
for I was people’s man
happy, jaunty, intrepid 
not candid but appeared so
 with negative attributes
and in irregular hysterics, 
I talked in unqualified words.

Only I detested interpreting death
as craving for flesh and drinks 
and carnage infused verve,
and on the big chair I chewed gum 
liquor chocolates, 
and murdered petitions of tears 
in vacant eyes.
As I resolved 
and slaughtered living words 
and voices in joy embryonic.

Last, a haiku from Wang Ping. . .


      I really think I have nothing to do with humans

      though I occasionally drown a few

      to remind them of their origin.

'of flesh and spirit  poems by Wang Ping' Coffee House Press
ISBN  9 781566 890687
also! this fascinating interview 'Prayer Flags and Kinship Rivers  
A Conversation with Wang Ping'
p. 75, World Literature Today, May-August 2016.

beloved assistant editors, my deepest thanks for this post
Frosty: "time for treats?!?"

yes, treats for everyone!

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen


Saturday, October 1, 2016

mighty fine poets: Catfish McDaris, Carl Mayfield, Ada Aharoni, Cathy Porter, Lysa Collins, Ian Mullins, Nancy Shires, a thank you to Teresinka Pereira

assistant editor tama, insisting 'all the fine poems waiting in 
bear creek's home (that size 11 shoe box), let's honor as many 
as we can, and right now!"  
                              'treats included!' states assistant ed. frosty

yes, noble assistants, excellent suggestions. . .

and, here we go!   

                          New Orleans                                                
Dumpstaphunk smoking
gggirlz shake their mother nature
Trombone Shorty blows.

*Catfish McDaris           west allis, wisconsin

    Blank Look #811

                               dim grow
                               the eyes
                               of joy
                               yet nothing
                               is diminished

    *Carl Mayfield          rio rancho, new mexico

             Eve's Defense

             You didn't have to accept
             That shiny juicy apple
             Did you Adam dear?

             Please remove
             Musty fig leaves
             From your memory and ears
             And remember Adam dear,
             You were created
             From mere earth,
             Whereas I was sculpted
             From a much finer substance
             Finer than poetry
             Finer than gold.

             In the rush of your
             Heart's blood
             In the throbbing of your temples
             Remember Adam dear -
             I was created
             From pure human bone
             Your strong rib-bone
             Became me - Eve
             Mother of Life.

             Always remember
             Dearest Adam
             Free, independent Eve
             Is - You. 

                              *Ada Aharoni            haifa, israel

('I chose this one', states tama - and our thanks to *teresinka
pereira for sending us Mr. Aharoni's poetry!)


          we sit in the quiet
          sunset falls
          your head on my shoulder
          it doesn't get better                                                     

          we hit repeat
          count blessings and stars
          the honeymoon phase

          of permanency   

                  *Cathy Porter  omaha, nebraska

                       crossing the stream
                       with measured steps -
                       water striders
                       fall in behind

 *Lysa Collins    white rock, british columbia

                       salty milk smell
                       baby's cheek
                       slaps into mine

              *Ian Mullins  liverpool, england

in bed at night
thinking haiku only
looks like sleep
              *Nancy Shires  greenville, north carolina

'treats for everyone?', suggests frosty -  
yes, it's time for all of us to have our treats!  
frosty: 'plural, I like that'

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen