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Current Issue 36-3

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Award Description

Each issue of Frogpond features a $100 Museum of Haiku Literature Award "For the best previously unpublished work appearing in the last issue of Frogpond as selected by vote of the Haiku Society of America Executive Committee." This award is made possible by the generosity of the Museum of Haiku Literature in Tokyo, Japan.

Online Collection of Award Winners

2013 | 2012 | 2011 | 2010 | 2009 |
2008 | 2007 | 2006 | 2005 | 2004 | 2003 | 2002 | 2001 | 2000 | 1999 |
1998 | 1997 | 1996 | 1995 | 1994 | 1993 | 1992 | 1991 | 1990 | 1989 |
1988 | 1987 | 1986 | 1985 | 1984 | 1983 | 1982 | 1981 (click on year)

[Top]

greenline2013

   silence of snow
we listen to the house
   grow smaller

John Parsons, Norfolk, England, Frogpond 36.2

porch swing    my feelings    come and go

Ce Rosenow, Eugene, Oregon, Frogpond 36.1

new love the up and down of her teabag

w. f. owen, Antelope, California, Frogpond 35.3

dawn swim—
making a butterfly of water
of light

Kristen B. Deming, Bethesda, Maryland, Frogpond 35.3

[Top]

greenline2012

summer heat
the strands of hair not captured
by her braid

Michael Ketchek, Rochester, New York, Frogpond 35.2

mating dragonflies—
my overuse
of dashes

Aubrie Cox, Muncie, Indiana, Frogpond 35:2

after she leaves
the weight
of hanging apples

Marsh Muirhead, Bemidji, Minnesota, Frogpond 35:1

[Top]

greenline2011

    how some things end—
onion flakes
    in the market sack

William M. Ramsey, Florence, SC

whale songs . . .
when did we stop
talking

Bud Cole, Ocean City, New Jersey, Frogpond 34:2

most of
what is
right

in

a wild
flower

patch

Scott Metz, Oregon, Frogpond 34:1

[Top]

greenline

2010

woodsmoke . . .
the guilt of living
on

Roland Packer, Ontario

lapping shore water—
the things we take
for granted

Carmen Sterba, Frongpond 33:2

first frost
the echo in the caw
of the crow

Mark Hollingsworth, Frogpond 33:1

[Top]

greenline2009

autumn riff
aspen leaves a few notes higher
than the stream

Harriot West, Frogpond 32:1

bare maple
my daughter says
she'll come back

Yu Chang, Frogpond 32:2

reddening apples—
my newborn tries to suckle
the orchard air

Dejah Leger, Frogpond 32:3

[Top]

greenline2008

the glare off snow
has the run of the house
February's extra day

Burnell Lippy, Frogpond 31:1

empty house—
a whisper of mother's voice
in the autumn wind

Curtis Dunlap, Frogpond 31:2

rain settles
some of the pollen
some of the plans

Peggy Willis Lyles, Frogpond 31:3

 

[Top]

greenline2007

distant singing—
the winter stars
almost touch

Ian Daw, Frogpond XXX:1

From the A-bombed tree
seeds start to fall
this year also

Yasuhiko Shigemoto, Frogpond XXX:2

year's end—
what made me think I needed
a harmonica

Carolyn Hall, Frogpond XXX:3

[Top]

greenline2006

after sunset . . .
the shapes
of the clouds

Hilary Tann, Frogpond XXIX:1

circle of pines
God absent
from the wedding vows

Carolyn Hall, Frogpond XXIX:2

open scissors beside a vase of water

Eve Luckring, Frogpond XXIX:3

[Top]

greenline2005

spring rain—
milk in her left breast
unexpectedly sweeter

Duro Jaiye, Frogpond XXVIII:1

spring evening
the children's promise
not to get cold

Marcus Larsson, Frogpond XXVIII:2

autumn morning—
repainting our bedroom
the color it was

Mike Spikes, Frogpond XXVIII:3

[Top]

greenline2004

jackknifed rig
the trooper waves us
into wildflowers

Robert Gilliland, Frogpond XXVII:1

the numbness
of scar tissue—
forsythia

Peggy Willis Lyles, Frogpond XXVII:2

autumn wind
in his sweater pocket
the missing button

Nancy S. Young, Frogpond XXVII:3

[Top]

greenline2003

squash vines
long and hollow
the last late evenings

Burnell Lippy, Frogpond XXVI:1

dim light
the night nurse
describes the rain

Joann Klontz, Frogpond XXVI:2

late summer
black men spreading tar
on the side road

Lenard D. Moore, Frogpond XXVI:3

[Top]

greenline2002

knowing your cough
but not your face—
invalid neighbor

Valerie Matsumoto, Frogpond XXV:1

spring plowing
a flock of blackbirds
turns inside out

Tom Painting, Frogpond XXV:2

squash vines
long and hollow
the last late evenings

Burnell Lippy, Frogpond XXV:3

[Top]

greenline2001

dusk—
up to my ears
in birdsong

John O’Connor, Frogpond XXIV:1

all around
light falling in a field
of fireflies

Robert Mainone, Frogpond XXIV:2

Independence Day—
I let him touch
a little bit of me

Fay Aoyagi, Frogpond XXIV:3

[Top]

greenline2000

snake hunting the boy sheds his shirt

Makiko, Frogpond XXIII:1

whistling
he
hangs
the
birdhouse
he
built

Carolyn Thomas, Frogpond XXIII:2

summer evening
fanning myself
with a paper moon

Stanford M. Forrester, Frogpond XXIII:3

[Top]

greenline1999

close lightning
the metallic taste
in my mouth

Charles Easter, Frogpond XXII:1

garden work—
talking to each other
back to back

Dimitar Anakiev, Frogpond XXII:2

dry heat—
to the same withered flower
a bee returns

Charles Easter, Frogpond XXII:3

[Top]

greenline1998

starry night—
biting into a melon
full of seeds

Yu Chang, Frogpond XXI:1

I brush
my mother’s hair
the sparks

Peggy Willis Lyles, Frogpond XXI:2

snowflakes glued
to the kindergarten window—
no two alike

Harriet Axelrad, Frogpond XXI:3

[Top]

greenline1997

undefended:
in the cold rain
their snow fort

Tom Clausen, Frogpond XX:1

faint city stars …
the moth’s copper dust
in my palm

Ebba Story, Frogpond XX:1

Father’s funeral
Mother
suddenly small

Celia Stuart-Powles, Frogpond XX:2

porch swing
now and then a breeze
from the river

Robert Gibson, Frogpond XX:2

January thaw
the narrow path
fading away

Mark Alan Osterhaus, Frogpond XX:3

[Top]

greenline1996

spring planting
her refusal
to compromise

Anthony J. Pupello, Frogpond XIX:1

Logging road—
the pileated woodpecker
flings its cry ahead

Carol Purington, Frogpond XIX:2

ill again
a dry leaf
across porch boards

Hayat Abuza, Frogpond XIX:3

[Top]

greenline1995

leaving the park—
glimpses of cherry petals
on the soles of shoes

Ebba Story, Frogpond XVIII:1

Lily pond
with one step the snowy egret
moves the moon

Matthew Louvière, Frogpond XVIII:2

the white v of a killdeer’s wings
opening in the wake
of its cry

Wally Swist, Frogpond XVIII:3

snow
softening
the night

R.A. Stefanac, Frogpond XVIII:4

[Top]

greenline1994

a pile of rocks
shifting in spring rain
the stiff old man

Lenard D. Moore, Frogpond XVII:1

getting louder
the calf
the auctioneer

LeRoy Gorman, Frogpond XVII:2

bird shadow
from tree shadow
to fence shadow

Christopher Herold, Frogpond XVII:3

i climb the mountain with my eyes never ending snow

Pamela A. Babusci, Frogpond XVII:4

[Top]

greenline1993

the petals scatter
over graves swept
and unswept

Kohjin Sakamoto, Frogpond XVI:1

a single leaf falling
and with it
the morning dew

Kenneth Tanemura, Frogpond XVI:1

mountain rose—
from thorn to thorn
a spider’s line

Christopher Herold, Frogpond XVI:2

coming out of the woods—
the sound of crickets,
the empty sky

Peter Yovu, Frogpond XVI:2

[Top]

greenline1992

An old woman with bread
waves the geese down
from the sky.

Alexis Rotella, Frogpond XV:1

over the earth’s edge
they all go—the white clouds
and the one sailboat

George Swede, Frogpond XV:1

 

amish territory
(Shipshewana, Indiana)

long beards longer
black clothes darker
under july sun

amish gentleman's
warm smile brief . . .
my skirt long and plain

an amish grin
as he cycles past
the station selling gas

the gloom within
a handcrafts store . . .
dolls with missing faces

facing mirrors
long-skirted woman
and her amish child

music on the wind
an amish foot softly taps
and abruptly stops

late night camp . . .
now a gentle lullaby
horse hooves heading home

Elizabeth St Jacques, Frogpond XV:1

 

Windswept Walk
a chain renku

windswept walk
an orange leaf
turns over

Michael Dylan Welch - June 6, 1990 - Foster City, Calif.

skyward,
the wild geese—their echo

Adele Kenny - June 12, 1990 - Fanwood, N.J.

between her white teeth
a cherry tomato
explodes

Emily Romano - June 24, 1990 - Boonton, N.J.

such boredom
after the fireworks

Alexis Rotella - June 26, 1990 - Mountain Lakes, N.J.

the black swan
paddles the moon
into its wake

David E. LeCount - June 30, 1990 - La Honda, Calif.

a doe and her fawn
hidden in shadow

Elizabeth Searle Lamb - July 7, 1990 - Santa Fe, N.M

house at auction:
all the lawn ornaments
faded to grey

Lee Gurga - July 14, 1990 - Lincoln, Illinois

I prefer some clouds
the morning after surgery

Hal Roth - July 22, 1990 - Vienna, Md.

giggles & respect kenichi's yard kanji beware of mountain crone

Marlene Mountain - August 2, 1990 - Hampton, Tenn.

flowing from his wet brush
grass words tickle her fancy

Jane Reichhold - August 6, 1990 - Gualala, Calif.

buckets set up
beside the bed
the roof leaks

Werner Reichhold - August 7, 1990 - Gualala, Calif.

heaven and earth together
cradle sleep with gentle rain

Elaine Sherlund - August 10, 1990 - Gualala, Calif.

tiny feet
from the garden shower
do a muddy stomp

Caroline Sutherland - August 12, 1990 - Gualala, Calif.

luna wings stroke twilight tones of moth

Penny Crosby - August 13, 1990 - Gualala, Calif.

after
his hands
so gentle

anne mckay - August 23, 1990 - Vancouver, B.C.

placing seed potatoes
eyes to the sky

Joe Nutt - September 4, 1990 - Staunton, Va.

in her dark hair
the blossom
whisper white

Elizabeth St Jacques - September 11, 1990 - Sault Ste. Marie, Ont

Clearing brush he finds
someone's wedding ring

Gloria H. Procsal - September 18, 1990 - Oceanside, Calif.

moving awry
with the sunspot
a widow spider

Frederick Gasser - 21 September 1990 - Youngstown, Ohio

sioux medicine man
dances his prayer

Francine Porad - September 25, 1990 - Mercer Island, Wash.

men picketing
a Chevy agency
a child asks, "parade?"

Paul O. Williams - September 27, 1990 - Belmont, Calif.

the blind man lifting
his face to the sun

Dave Sutter - September 27, 1990 - San Francisco, Calif.

Wind and Sea . . .
tiny name
on the painting

vincent tripi - September 30, 1990 - San Francisco, Calif.

brilliant on the easel
the meadow's wildflowers

Charles B. Dickson - October 31, 1990 - Doraville, Ga.

Amapola
recalling mother's perfume
on Saturday nights

Mitzi Hughes Trout - November 5, 1990 - Roswell, Ga.

"loneliest night of the week"—
searching the stars for solace

Geraldine C. Little - November 22, 1990 - Mt. Holly, N.J.

portmanteau
taken out of storage,
dark with dew

Hiroaki Sato - December 21, 1990 - New York, N.Y.

Plane rises dear of the fog
into profound darkness

Doris Heitmeyer - January 2, 1991 - New York, N.Y.

Will we go hunting
for the Blue Moon
next New Year's Eve?

Sydell Rosenberg - January 7, 1991 - Jamaica, N.Y

bleak January day
forced narcissus showing white

L. A. Davidson - January 22, 1991 - New York, N.Y.

first I saw her hair
in the wind, then the wonder
of her smile

Virginia Brady Young - February 15, 1991 - Cheshire, Conn.

no way to stop hearing
that old lovesong

Sylvia Forges-Ryan - February 19, 1991 - North Haven, Conn.

florist shop door
slowly swings shut
closing out the street noise

Karen Sohne - March 5, 1991- N. Massapequa, N.Y.

at the tap of
the baton . . .

Minna Lerman - June 1, 1991- Havertown, Pa.

both cats
beside the big glass vase
the chrysanthemums

M. M. Nichols - June 14, 1991- New York, N.Y.

gathered in a white apron
seed for next spring's planting

Lequita Vance - June 23, 1991 - Carmel, Calif.

chain renku, Frogpond XV:1
   See Michael Dylan Welch's Notes About Windswept Walk

 

falling leaves
day by day
the house grows brighter

Peter Duppenthaler, Frogpond XV:2

darkening path
the white morning glories
lead the way

Wilma M. Erwin, Frogpond XV:2

[Top]

greenline1991

in a backyard
two women folding sunlight
into sheets

Sandra Fuhringer, Frogpond XIV:1

 

the billboard’s shadow
a haiku/senryu sequence

late autumn
the billboard's shadow leans
into the woods

from the stream
two mallards fly straight up
through falling leaves

new year's eve blizzard—
a neon beer-sign glows
behind the steamed window

spring breeze
the woods road is still wet
under the pines

the old watering can
hangs one more rainbow
among the roses

the evening paper
on the darkening lawn—
first star

a letter stuck
in the 11th floor mail chute—
summer night

the blues singer
tells how bad it is
then the sax tells you too

quiet afternoon—
in the meadow, one daisy
leans on another

at the end of a tunnel in the clouds
a sunlit billow

crossing the tracks
at twilight—
the autumn wind

chilly sunrise
a strip of bark flutters
on the lake-side birch

twiddling my thumbs
the sun goes down,
the moon comes up

winter drizzle—
unloading a crate of live ducks
behind the chinatown restaurant

snow melts by the hardware counter—
the squares of color
in the paint catalog

in the mirrors on her dress
little pieces of my
self

a few blocks
from the street festival—
the evening quiet

at the pow-wow—
they pass out ordinary saltines
for the ceremony

while his passengers sleep,
the bus driver watches dawn
break

by the lawn's edge,
the dog barks at the darkness
then looks back at me

dead end—
a few leaves circle
in the headlights

late at night—
a woman alone in the restaurant
addressing christmas cards

snowy morning
the barber appears
in his mirrors

moonrise
the columbine still
swinging

changing pitchers—
the base-runner looks up
at a passing cloud

in the subway
the young conductor cues
imaginary oboes

climbing the stairs
more slowly—
autumn evening

the frozen puddle—
kids slide over a pattern
of red leaves

snow drifts
above the bear's den
starry night

cold spring rain—
a piece of grass sticks out of the birdhouse

Cor van den Heuvel, Frogpond XIV:1

Up in the sky
hardly heard, hardly seen:
migrating birds

Ion Codrescu, Frogpond XIV:2

 

Earth Day: Variations with Theme

sundawn
a flutter of mourning doves,
& poised, light-bathed, one faun
nearby, a bell tolls changes

mapletree buds,
their small shadows
in water-glazed mud
nearby, a bell tolls changes

white lilac
fragrantly exuberant
beside the porchdeck
nearby, a bell tolls changes

putting down a book
to listen to the god
in the half-cleared brook
nearby, a bell tolls changes

high noon
straight-up trunks of poplars shadowless
a foreshadowing ... soon, soon?
nearby, a bell tolls changes

watching a program
on Brazil’s rain forests,
anger poisons calm
nearby, a bell tolls changes

on the grass
two pitched-from-a-car beer cans.
unthinking ass!
nearby, a bell tolls changes

a cardinal's song
blends with the brilliant sunset.
surely, nothing's wrong?
nearby, a bell tolls changes

cicadas at dusk—
seventeen years hence, shall we see
substance or husk?
nearby, a bell tolls changes

in moonlight
swish of owl wings, this heartstab:
glitter can gloss blight
nearby, a bell tolls changes

Geraldine C. Little, Frogpond XIV:3

First spring day
melting and melting and melting
tracks of the mountain man.

vincent tripi, Frogpond XIV:3

 

Green a-Glitter

Green a-glitter
fluttering in the sun:
the wind shines                          hs 5/24/86

a butterfly’s shadow
crosses the artist’s blank canvas

the spare lines
of a wishbone
on the mauve plate                          gl

under the branches, toward
the compost heap

shovelfuls of stinking earth
bring a whiff
of incense                          rw

with a soft singing tongue
these strangers in sanctuary

so bright the night of seventh moon
gathering strawberries
cool and sweet                          am

red smudges of dawn
on the curling river

odor of tea
rises in steam
from the dragon pot                          jk

barely a glimpse
of its ruby throat

in the stillness
the river
drips from her paddle                          cw

under the surface tension,
subsurface tension

for a little time
the dial tone
after you’ve gone                          sg

washing your lips
from the crystal glass

beyond our silence
a train whistle
into the distance                          ak

through a pale blue haze
the plummeting hawk

sharp memories
return an old fear
the glare of sun on glass                          hr

honeymoon over
his clothes in the moonlight

on the rock
net cast again
deep brine waters                          re

sparkling:
my scaly fish hands

shore flowers
without
petals                          md

an aged odalisque
breathes fire

surfeited
with tortellini:
rain outside                          hs

faint perfume wafts
from his hung-up damp coat

out all night,
the cat curls up
in the closet’s darkness                          gl

my son is whispering
with a snail-shell

plasticine worms:
their colors gone
into sunset’s burn                          rw

at twilight
the reapers’ last returning

her scarlet skirt
flaring
to the fiddler’s tune                          am

film flaps to a stop
in the projector

afterimage
of jane darwell’s eyes
on california                          jk

a fly lands on the mirror
… goes off again

in the ochre vase
seven lilies opened yesterday
three today                          cw

the tabernacle.
doors thrown wide

Jesus Christ among guards
the garden caught
in shadows of the moon                          sg

on the unmarked grave
a mockingbird

checking locks
as the rain
begins                          ak

wet earth, the smell of it
again she turns in her sleep

a purple dawn
last of the butter beans
fill their pods                          hr

wintered reeds rattle
words that pierce

egret in flight
onion skin pages
turn over in the wind                          re

he wails the blues, trumpet player
alone on the darkened stage

“it’s nothing but an act”
she shouts
the dogwood turning red                          is

in a drunken torpor
dream of stubborn love                          hs

she wakes
to apple scent and reeling
maple leaves                          gl

jobless, letting the dog
run off in the moonless night                          rw

beyond
greener pastures
… that never were                          am

and yet woodstock
still resonates                          jk

scatterflies on the window—
the silence of bloodroot
beneath the leaves                          cw

vigil lights
dissolving old feuds                          sg

my own name
last
in the family Bible                          ak

another year ends
snow dusted on the foothills                          hr

wind
where the pines
and blackness meet                          re

all night he listens
for the wild geese                          is

occasional shots
of Jack Daniels:
Chattanooga

no longer idyllic;
few places are                          hs

votive lights
shivering—all those earthquake
Armenian dead

seeding the compost pile
with earthworms again                          gl

dark place
where square grows round
and words glow bright

even in the computer
a drift of yellow pollen                          rw

shaping
the poem
slowly

a bright structure
neon green                          am

planetarium music . . .
the blind boy’s fingers
land on the moon                          rw

across the milky way to sado
in braille                          jk

coming up the coast
the cry of snowgeese
darkened by snow

as if the tide
broke free of the shore                          cw

under the peak,
cold fog blows
against petrified reeds

uptrail, bristlecone
looming and rimy                          sg

pale stars
flickering over
our snow angels

called back in middle age
to a childhood home                          ak

along the road to mother’s
summer grasses
already brown

a piece of driftwood
for the plastic bird                          hr

out of season
amaryllis bloom
blood red

rustle of bracken
cloud hidden moon reappears                          re

the mime’s hat
a little hole
large enough for crickets

salmon’s tail
river dancing                          vt

silvery fog
moves in across the shore
up the cliff

wistful thoughts of
youthful warmth                          hs

the fire leaps—
my grandson’s first Christmas Eve
laughter

lights out all the stockings
stuffed with starlight                          gl

so late, and on the pond
someone skating—
a gleam, a scrape

a splash of sparks
a whirring stone                          rw

centered
by north light
the potter’s wheel

small dreams
curve within her hands                          am

spectrums of color
volley back into themselves
paperweigh

a shriek from somewhere
at the masked ball                          jk

walking home at dawn
a witch
with a shoe in each hand

on the pilings
barnacles wait for the tide                          cw

groan
and thunder of the stream at flood
remote as childhood

two last oar-swirls
finally still                          sg

a kingfisher
diving into
the moon

the golden hooves
of the carousel horse                          ak

a plover circles—
just beyond the sawgrass
there are graves

I miss the flash
of her white teeth                          hr

between darkness
and light
the flutter of a moth

the night’s sound
where all the hard words go                          re

Hike up the mountain …
the book about God
weighs me down.

Old footbridge …
past looking                          vt

after heavy rain
the moon appears, bright,
over the marsh

all the dreams linger,
unfaded, still                          hs 9/24/90

Hiroaki Sato, Geraldine Little, Rod Willmot, anne mckay, Jerry Kilbride,
   Carol Wainright, Stephen Gould, Adele Kenny, Hal Roth, Ruth Eshbaugh,
   vincent tripi, Michael Dudley, Lee Scott., Frogpond XIV:3

night storm—
a deeper dark unrolls
across the prairie

Ruth Yarrow, Frogpond XIV:4

 

Return to the Wall
The Vietnam Veterans Memorial, Washington, DC

removing her wedding ring
she brushes ¡t along
her husband's name

son of an MIA
the flag pin on his lapel
upside-down

woman touches a name
while looking at
an old photo

elderly couple
their faces reflected
over their son's name

man in a filthy army jacket
tries to scratch on
his name

a candle
left burning on the ground
its flame almost out

Note: "The Wall," born of the author’s first impressions of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, appeared in the November 1988 issue of Frogpond.

John J. Dunphy, Frogpond XIV:4

[Top]

greenline1990

anzio beach …
another wave gathers
and breaks

Frank K. Robinson, Frogpond XIII:1

 

76A2103

How many dew drops make up these walls?

On razor wire
squats a crow—
winter night

The guards in their towers:
silk worms in cocoons of light

Black-uniformed winter fly
greeting me
behind bullet-proof glass

Walls of ice
deep in forests
frozen frogponds

My silver shackles—
gossamer threads
under these stars

Old guard escorting me
coughing like bullfrog
cigarette smoke for breath

Prison cat in shadows
stalking the shaft of searchlight

Capturing snowflake fireflies with my tongue

Beating time with nightstick,
cricket sound
while I urinate

Oh, winter moon,
what have you done now
keep-locked with the mountains?

A thousand temple bells—
the noise of the cell block

Suddenly they all look like green bullfrogs!

Decorating my cell again
I notice roommate—
a silverfish on my pillow

From out of Henderson’s Haiku,
my old wife’s photograph:
cells doors automatically locking.

Elliot Richman, Frogpond XIII:1

soothing rain:
the mown meadow releases
pungence of mint

Wally Swist, Frogpond XIII:2

 

collecting early colors linked lines

     september 88 october 89
     british columbia ontario

and now the rains      and grey silk rivers                a

     river rocks collecting early colors                e

a silvered thimble too      in the magpie's nest                a

     blackwinged birds      echoes zigzag orange                e

remembering the mark of zorro ...                a

     midnight moon the cougar's intense eyes                e

catscradle      quick between small fingers                a

     daily grows      the first snowman                e

but so few the carolers this year                a

     streetcorner santas      tambourines and bells                e

returning soon      the gypsies      the dance                a

     now sun incites soft trickling songs                e

and again      the seven days of poppies rushing red                a

     on the female statue a      blush of moss                e

this hourglass      reminding me      reminding me                a

     ... twenty aprils since your dandelion pleasures                e

spilling the wine      bright drops of pizzicato                a

     a mouse scurries from the silo                e

the clock strikes twelve … and all's well                a

     monks in mantra file                e

always and softly      the voice of the drum                a

     rhythm met by moccasins                e

small water snake … consider the form      the beauty                a

     the carrot peel      its curl                e

sharpening the knife      his sly smile                a

     she hums      silver on her fingernails                e

this last night of august      night of the halfmoon                a

     tiny echoes      her moonstone rosary                e

in the nave      sparrow      resting with ‘our lady of sorrows’                a

     small bleached bones      in a nest of leaves                e

forgotten now      those songs from the children’s hour                a

     clown      tipping his invisible hat                e

dreamspinners drift away with dawn      grey on grey                a

     a cloud in the cup’s tealeaves                e

sealed and cool      jars of blackberries      and blue                a

     her pride …      this autumn ritual                a

               anne mckay & elizabeth st jacques, Frogpond XIII:2

Butterfly shadows …
not finding
the butterfly

W.C. Ginn, Frogpond XIII:3

 

Abandoned Farmhouse

abandoned farmhouse:
bird nest in the mail box
also deserted

abandoned farmhouse:
wallpaper peeling back to
my childhood

abandoned farmhouse:
something scratching
inside the furnace

abandoned farmhouse:
the quiet bedroom where I
feared the dark

abandoned farmhouse: a
yellowed grocery list taped
to the counter top

abandoned farmhouse: a
moth flies out of the water
faucet

abandoned farmhouse:
my daughter
snaps pictures of our visit

Edward J. Rielly, Frogpond XIII:3

Into old pots and pans
thrown out in the backyard—
the musical rain

Tom Tico, Frogpond XIII:4

 

New Orleans Wedding

here & there
in bare treetops
mistletoe

in a shabby motel
all night
treefrogs in rain

cottonmouths
in the swamp ...
a house on stilts

**

family get-together
all the eyes all the feelers
all the hands tearing shrimp

morning in the French Quarter
café au lait &
beignets with sparrows

the river wind blows
into the Quarter
& through his saxophone

on the riverfront
a stranger
takes my smile

the breeze
off the Mississippi
fills my skirt

behind grillwork
down darkness to sun
in a hidden courtyard

cool the alley
through the grillwork swirls
cat pee smell

in the morning shops
half the doorways
fill with shade

all the Mardi Gras colors
in the masks
in the houses

on the iron lace balconies
only flowers
sunning

from the suite dusk
fills in the river
& all the tiny lights are slow

**

huge limbs of the live oak
their reaching out
over the young grass

in a pecan grove
wandering spring shadows
cows & blackbirds

parked on the runway
its wings drooped a B-52
the winter sun

the slow day ...
in the empty motel corridor
a stack of dirty dishes

sundown in the empty bar
the player-piano keys
begin

the big waitress departs
the china teapot
shakes

January sun ...
the cotton fields
dotted with leftovers

Anita Virgil, Frogpond XIII:4

[Top]

greenline1989

longest night—
his forehead burning
into my hand

Ruth Yarrow, Frogpond XII:1

 

Records of a Well-Polished Satchel: #6 Angles of Loneliness

what passion
you had, Akiko—
where can I put
even an inch
of tonight's anguish!

sucking
chocolate squares—
oh, it's a lonely beginning
this first night of return
to Japan

under this Basholess
pre-dawn sky
how rough
the angle of loneliness
along this eastern sea

bent
like a puzzle
in a child's hand,
that back before me
in the pre-dawn dark

is it a walking
umbrella?
immense the black
over that bent-against-the-wind
angle of loneliness

a crane
skipping before me
on this seaside road,
its leg
a karate lift?

I hug
the boy to me—
how brave he was to point and say
This is a pencil
This is a cup

on my office couch
I lean back,
back,
this Nescafe's
the length of my desire

in this bare
late-afternoon life
I make
my bare dinner
and set out fork and knife

wanting
to embrace
even a sleeve—
tonight's
lonely angle

Sanford Goldstein, Niigata, October 1987, Frogpond XII:1

gone from the wood
the bird I knew
by song alone

Paul O. Williams, Frogpond XII:2

 

Flashes of Sunset . . . All the Way Home

Flashes of sunset
between the cars
the eastbound freight

old railroad tracks
bobbing sunflowers surround
the turquoise outhouse

violet aster
still bright
behind me

in blue-black ocean night
the ferry's churning white wake
fades in the distance                               Gita Bodner

after her phonecall
following wet footprints
back to the bath

hikers at dusk
spilling with shadows
out the canyon mouth

high country
feeling the forest
hidden in the dark

sleeping in his be
—a dream
of her grandson's return                         Richard Bodner

Honolulu airport
breathing wet warm air
sniffs of unknown flowers

road to Ooty:

wrestling on the edge
of the State Fisheries tank
—two soaked monkeys

sunrise didj at Ulsoor Lake
dobi-wallahs slap
their morning loads on stone

mountain hotspring
snowflakes sink in
the rising steam                                    Gus Bodner

waking my daughter
frost-flowers on the window
from her breath

driving to meet our son
—nighthawks fly
before the storm cloud

past the plane's great wing
a strip of thin grass shimmers
in the jet wind

wet pavement
the smell of sage
all the way home                                  Virginia Bodner

Notes: didj/didjeridoo: an aboriginal instrument; dobi-wallahs: washer-persons

The Bodners: Richard, Virginia, Gus, Gita, Frogpond XII:2

on Lookout Rock
one step
to the red hawk

Andrew J. Grossman, Frogpond XII:3

 

Six Ways of Seeing Summer Rain

I
A red shaft of light
dances on your moist eyelids:
the searing morning.

II
Frog Mountain rises
to arch its back in the clouds:
unforeseen downpour.

III
Three men and three birds
stand still in the forest, all
surprised by rain.

IV
Rain like the Deluge:
a mudspattered Apache
sings in Cibecue.

V
The day hides itself
within a grove of aspen.
Thunder pursues it.

VI
Uprooted clouds:
Summer holds the pale mountains,
calls down the clear night.

Gregory McNamee, Frogpond XII:3

cajun cabin …
the aroma of hot gumbo
floats on the bayou

Charles B. Dickson, Frogpond XII:4

 

Beachfront Suicide: Reflections at Dusk

Gunshot!
The tide of gulls breaks
like a scattering wave

Gathering silence
in my mind is
the hardest thing to do

Against the wind's chill
I button my sweater
feet dug in sand

The sun slips low
a carnelian red paving
the water with dark light

How many wanderers
have followed the sun
down?

(The girl with the soul
of a gull
never came back)

Questions
purl like schools of fish
in dangerous waters

Questions
without breath without answers
a broken shell

Marian Olson, Frogpond XII:4

[Top]

greenline1988

on the cardboard box
holding the frozen wino:
Fragile: Do Not Crush

Nicholas Virgilio, Frogpond XI:1

 

Wintering Over: New York Haiku

From the fire escape
the cry of the mourning dove
wintering over

New condominium
its exhaust grate claimed by
a new derelict

Wind chill minus five
the piercing whistles
of the starlings

The young mother
stoops to warm the child's mittens
between her gloves

Between lace curtains
the white cat's eyes
follow a snowflake

A crow flies down
to land in the new snow
its voice ringing

Madison Avenue
a row of ginkgoes mulched
with old Xmas trees

Suet on a string
suspended from a snowy branch
three sparrows make it spin

In the shadow of
office buildings, bagpiper's
Amazing Grace

Doris Heitmeyer, Frogpond XI:1

Last night’s fading dream …
On the blue teapot birds drift
beyond the willows

Ann Atwood, Frogpond XI:2

 

Shohomish County Jail Haiku (For Karol)

Under cloudless skies;
nuclear resister jailed
missiles free to fly

April sun slanting
across the exercise yard
jail-bar shadows

Basketball stops
in the exercise yard—
convicts shoot the breeze

This heat!
snow-clad mountains framed
by my jail cell window

Little ladybug
caught after visiting hours:
doing jail time, too

Starting a new month
in Snohomish County Jail;
same old tea bag

Chilly June morning—
in a spider web
the jailhouse fly hangs

Sixty day jail term—
as it grows shorter
my growing beard

Johnny Baranski, 065811, Spring 1987, Frogpond XI:2

a swallowtail
settles
on the prize-winning quilt

Alexis Rotella, Frogpond XI:3

 

Walking Home on a Summer Afternoon

summer afternoon—
the priest takes a blue pencil
from the blind man

coming up through
a gap in the city bridge
a checkerspot butterfly

backfire—
a checkerspot in its sound
shifts direction

dog coming out
with the cathedral crowd
tail upward

half way home
pole shadows reach across
the widening road

train whistle—
two jets wrap the sky
with mist

a block from home
a pair of rain drops find
my haiku notes

Frederick Gasser, Frogpond XI:3

snow geese
Sarah discovers
the letter V

James Minor, Frogpond XI:4

 

Revenant

suddenly—
twenty years later
you taste the same

through two marriages
framed behind Beethoven
your picture

talking with him
I taste you
in the tea you serve

on your porch
only the breeze
moves between us

in the dark car
the scent of you
and the rainy fields

juice from the apple
runs into my beard
as I wait for you

in the mirror
the only picture
of us together

your perfume—
looking up startled
at a stranger

in the cold fireplace
my last letter
burning

Michael McNierney, Frogpond XI:4

[Top]

greenline1987

still in the taste
of afternoon tea,
my grandmother’s brogue

Jerry Kilbride, Frogpond X:1

a horse-drawn plow:
sunflowers stand
in the traces

Eugene Warren [Gene Doty], Frogpond X:2

Eaves
pulling sound
from the wind

Geraldine Clinton Little, Frogpond X:3

walking alone
the way oak leaves
refuse to fall

Carol Dagenhardt, Frogpond X:4

[Top]

greenline1986

a steady rain
the dentist’s drill
turning to snow

Jane Reichhold, Frogpond IX:1

top of the falls
your voice somewhere
in its sound

Ruby Spriggs, Frogpond IX:2

The worm
far out on this paved lot
more rain

John-Bruce Shoemaker, Frogpond IX:3

autumn dusk the crooked road home

Marlene Mountain, Frogpond IX:4

[Top]

greenline1985

winter morning—
the closet dark with
old shoes

Sylvia Forges-Ryan, Frogpond VIII:1

The family gathered—
a tear of embalming fluid runs
from my brother’s eye

George Swede, Frogpond VIII:2

a moth flies
through my breath
in moonlight

Bill Pauly, Frogpond VIII:3

bitter wind …
the hand that cups the flame
aglow

Peggy Willis Lyles, Frogpond VIII:4

[Top]

greenline1984

The sound of scissors
through quilt stuffing:
chill autumn moon

David LeCount, Frogpond VII:1

autumn maple
a gust of yellow scatters
the child’s laughter

Charles D. Nethaway, Jr., Frogpond VII:1

autumn sky
the wind folds and unfolds
a flock of sparrows

Alexis Rotella, Frogpond VII:2

moving into the sun
the pony takes with him
some mountain shadow

Jane Reichhold, Frogpond VII:3

paddling slowly
through the reeds
that touch her hair

Rod Willmot, Frogpond VII:4

[Top]

greenline1983

the old woman
looking into the stars
sky all snowy

Lenard D. Moore, Frogpond VI:1

Against his coat
I brush my lips—
the silence of snowflakes

Alexis Kaye Rotella, Frogpond VI:2

away from eyes
the stairwell holds
us in its arms

Rod Willmot, Frogpond VI:3

that sonofabitch
on the corner has a knife—
the rain glistens on it

Bruce Kennedy, Frogpond VI:4

[Top]

greenline1982

still
childless:
milkweed

Alexis Rotella, Frogpond V:1

Winter’s end
a bitterness remaining
in the dried apricots

Stephen Gould, Frogpond V:2

the old garden fence
now keeps the goldenrod
from the goldenrod

Paul O. Williams, Frogpond V:3

Thin icicles
on the telephone wire
her distant voice

George Swede, Frogpond V:4

[Top]

greenline1981

hoping the shape
of the navel will be good
father cuts the cord

Tadashi Kondo, Frogpond IV:1

one cricket sound and silence lighting the autumn garden

Elizabeth Searle Lamb, Frogpond IV:2

hot rock by the stream
each of the baby’s toeprints
evaporating

Ruth Yarrow, Frogpond IV:3

switching off the light
switching off the shadows

Ruby Spriggs, Frogpond IV:4

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