Spring 2013 Showcase

Miles to go © Marie Taylor

“Just a minute – that’s not a haiku!”

It might not be, but it might be here. I have said all along that haiku is the starting-place for the zen space, and that is why I canvass among the best haijin I can find. However, what I am looking for is poetry of few words and much immediacy. Remember – we’re on a river, and your leaves, paper boats, and (yes) even pooh-sticks have to float past on the current. So think on.

Many of the contributions in this particular Showcase have not been published anywhere else, and also many are from poets who have not appeared here before. This means I will have had to leave work by ‘regulars’ on the table for now. I know they’ll bear with me and will enjoy reading the new material. Meanwhile here are a few thoughts for the near future:

– the theme of ‘death’, for anyone who fancies composing jisei, or contemplating the great leap into eternity, or who can write a ‘sideways look’ at the subject;

– a competition to win a piece of artwork by our ‘resident’ illustrator Marie Taylor;

– a future issue (maybe the next one – yes, I know that’s what I said last time!) with a guest editor (maybe Angie Werren first, if she’s up for it).

The spring equinox has passed, and the clocks have just gone on to ‘British Summer Time’, but daytime temperatures in my nook of the forest aren’t much above 5^oC. I’m weary of it. Time to warm us all up with some poetry, then…

Marie Marshall
editor
the zen space

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kate s godsey

hummingbird hovers
close enough to touch
childhood summers

scent of his ball-glove
how can i decline
his apology

bright moonlight
the luminosity
of everyday objects

the enchantment
of moonlit snowdrifts
time becomes white

__________

Auricéia Dumke

silent watcher
the prey’s speech
suddenly interrupted

chaos outside
a writer works silently
near the fireplace

starry night
after so much rain
a painful neck

heavy luggage
taken here & there
carrying just thoughts

__________

Mari Sanchez Cayuso

__________

Graham Duff

flying jacket
she slept
on the pillion

a halo
in cross stitch
crescent moon

silence
on the marsh
star drift

Gallipoli
his ink line
stops

__________

Andrew Shimield

the robin
about his business
nothing but himself

.

2Swans
on the lake
February sun
knowing nothing of recession
the boy on the swing
kicks higher

–  after Buson
(p.p. Blithe Spirit)

.

chestnut beech and oak, the gutters fill with leaves

__________

S M Abeles

Garden of Allah © Marie Taylor

 

letting go
the sun drops
into the sea

beach yoga
until we are
paper boats

the old monk’s
fading tattoo —
orange dusk

__________

Joanna Ashwell

waking dreams
an early sunrise
chases the jabberwocky

inside and out
by the firelight
flames and snowflakes dance

in flood
thoughts racing
keeping pace with the river

fire brand
sunset alight
between cloud

__________

Sounds Like Haikus’ by Peter Fulton

Sound is malleable
if we can speak in music
we don’t need English.

Shouts upon the waves
sound louder, carry farther
our liquid voices.

Men know from their eyes
women see with their ears
men are deaf and dumb.

The sound of your voice
is an entire choir
set free on the breeze.

Nothing can rouse me
like the note of your bouquet
where fingers can’t touch.

__________

Patricia Prime

door to the café
propped open with a rock
and its shadow

the French windows
are open to summer sunshine
as if on a stage
we wait for colours to change
to the cadence of evening

as if painted
on a green landscape
sheep dot the hillside
coming to a standstill
at the edge of our gaze

is it enough
to be overcome with joy
at a few words
spoken in English
by a tiny Chinese girl?

__________

N E Taylor

Refugees © Marie Taylor

 

left turn
right turn
bus dance

cemetery
fog
low spirits

receding
waves
good-bye

morning moon
gulls fly
breakfast time

in winter
snow coat
alone

hot soup
winter
song

__________

Taylor Seyfert

CoD

Gamers are screaming
bottled rage on spit-flecked screens.
No one likes to die.

.

Brothers

We both wanted to
be cat-footed tap dance men,
but just like always
his feet were faster than mine,
and I didn’t get the part.

.

The Day Before the Hanging

Slow-ringing, singing,
bells are all I hear tonight–
songs of home, and I
softly cry until dawn breaks
my neck, and sweet night bursts black.

.

[No Title]

Once upon a time
there was a little man-child
trapped inside of me

__________

Ese’s Voice

a glimpse of blush
on geisha’ s ivory cheeks
early blossom

ocean inhales, exhales
wave turns into island
whale’ s last lullaby

garden is awake
white blossoms like young bride’ s dress
red tulip stands out

snow captures branches
dreams of spring hidden beneath
winter trees still numb

__________

Michael Fessler

Afternoon © Marie Taylor

 

colleague of mine
who studied to be a priest
summer cocktail party

I wad the brochure
from the hardware store
into a colorful ball

the geisha has gone
behind the sliding door
leaving her laughter

sprig of jasmine
comes alive suddenly
dropping a flower

gingko leaves
trod to a fine powder
Philosophy Dept.

cold morning
a woman sits
on her hands

__________

Readers might be interested in Phil Madden’s book The Tea Way, published by Gean Tree Press and available here.

Forthcoming publications to look out for, although well outside the normal remit of the zen space, are the editor’s new collection of poems I am not a fish (due out in April), and the anthology of 21c sonnets The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes (volume 1 due out in June); more news about these later. And don’t forget the Aval-Ballan Poetry Competition, which still has a month to run.

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The next Showcase at the zen space will be Summer 2013 which will be released, subject to karma, on 1^st July 2013. 

Please note the copyright of all written work and images used in this showcase and elsewhere in the zen space is held by the creating artist/author or by the zen space, even where not explicitly stated, and may not be used elsewhere without permission.

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Avenue © Marie Taylor