NaHaiWriMo 2017 Selections

Selected by Michael Dylan Welch from poems posted to the NaHaiWriMo page on Facebook in February 2017. Our plan is to use many of these poems for a new NaHaiWriMo PDF book. Selected poems (no more than one per day/prompt) will be made into an original haiga, and many of the other poems will be included in the PDF book (but not all of them—final selections to be determined later). The following selection amounts to 399 poems, so we will definitely have to cut as many as 100 or even 200+ poems, but this is at least our short list. Poems to be cut will probably start with those who have many poems selected, but the plan is for each person selected here to have at least one poem included.

At this point, anyone who has a poem selected here may choose to opt out (not be included in the book). If you would like to withdraw all of your poems, or just a particular poem or two, please email Michael Dylan Welch at WelchM@aol.com by 15 March 2017. In addition, I’ve suggested revisions for some poems, marked in red (strikethrough indicates deletion). Please let me know if you’re NOT okay with these suggested revisions—thank you. If I do not hear from you by 15 March, I will assume the revisions are okay with you. The poems are in no particular order within each day, and may be presented in a different order in the final PDF book.

Here is a list of all poets (sorted by first name) who have poems selected for this short list:

Ajaya Mahala‎ (5)
Alison Williams (9)
Allal Taleb
Amy Losak
Angie Werren (5)
Anitha Varma (5)
Anne Burgevin
Anne Larbes DeLorean (2)
Ardelle Ray (3)
Art Kingston (9)
Barbara Kaufmann (6)
Barbara Strang (8)
Belinda Broughton
Bill Waters (8)
Cameron Mount (6)
Carmen Sterba (6)
Carole MacRury (11)
Caroline Skanne
Chrissi Villa (9)
Corine Timmer (3)
Dawn Apanius (3)
Deborah B. Shepherd (2)
Deborah P Kolodji‎ (2)
Devin Harrison (3)
Eider Green (6)
Eric Lohman (2)
Erica Olson (2)
Gergana Yaninska (2)
Gillena Cox
Grace Galton (6)
Greg Longenecker
Hansha Teki (4)
Helene Jäderberg (7)
Ida Freilinger (2)
Iocasta Huppen (10)
James Rodriguez
Jayashree Maniyil (2)
Joanna Paterson
Johannes S. H. Bjerg‎ (4)
John Hawk (14)
Johnny Baranski (15)
Joseph Connolly (2)
Judt Shrode (4)
Karla Decker (3)
Kathabela Wilson (7)
Kathi Wright (2)
Kathy Uyen Nguyen (5)
Linda Papanicolaou (3)
Line Jolyot (3)
Maggie James (2)
Marie-Alice Maire
Marietta McGregor
Marilyn Ashbaugh
Marilyn Deavers
Marina Bellini (4)
Mary Kendall
Michael A. Moore (2)
Michael Henry Lee (10)
Michele L. Harvey (13)
Nicole Pottier (2)
Nikolay Penchev (4)
Nink Nonk
Pamela Cooper (5)
Pat Nelson (2)
Patsy Turner (4)
Patty Hardin
Paul David Mena (14)
Paul Wruck (3)
Peggy Hale Bilbro‎ (2)
Penny Harter (5)
Pris Campbell (9)
Rachel Green (2)
Rahmatou NanoRahma Sangotte (4)
Randall Herman (2)
Richard Magahiz
Robert T. Franson (5)
Rosemary Nissen-Wade (5)
Rowena McGregor‎ (2)
Roy Kindelberger (2)
Samar Ghose (5)
Sandi Pray (7)
Sanjuktaa Asopa (7)
Scott Dickson
Sheila Windsor (7)
Shelley Krause (9)
Shrikaanth K. Murthy (3)
Stella Pierides (4)
Steve Smolak (3)
Susan E. Buffington (5)
Susan Murata
Symanntha Renn
Terri Hale French (6)
Tore Sverredal (5)
Vibeke Laier
Viktoriya Marinova
Vincent Hoarau
Virginia Popescu (2)

 

February 1
HAIKU (write a serious haiku ABOUT haiku, which is hard to do well)

 

haiku critique

choosing my words

oh so carefully

                Michael Henry Lee

 

wild grasses—

desperately looking

for the lost haiku

                Vincent Hoarau

 

an aha moment

stumbling on a step

that isn’t there

                Shrikaanth K. Murthy

 

scrap of paper

a haiku fades

in the sun

                Barbara Strang

 

jumble box

all my unfinished

haiku

                Greg Longenecker

 

first light—

the haiku I wrote

better in my dream

                Shelley Krause

 

contemplating

how to write haiku

blustery day

                James Rodriguez

 

kumquat and pills

I write my first haiku

from my sickbed

                Kathy Uyen Nguyen

 

crowded subway—

the heat and the smell

and a book of haiku

                Rahmatou NanoRahma Sangotte

 

shooting star

the old poet writes

her death haiku

                Susan E. Buffington

 

there, in the fog

if you look hard enough . . .

a haiku

                Johnny Baranski

 

another chance

to know the ordinary

winter meadow

                Anne Burgevin

 

writing haiku

the wind insists

I start over

                John Hawk

 

old book

Bashōo still

writes haiku

                Nikolay Penchev

 

cricket in the grass

is there a haiku

just for you

                Nikolay Penchev

 

pale winter sky—

an unfinished haiku

in my Draft folder

                Paul David Mena

 

reading again

his last haiku—

breaking news

                Alison Williams

 

new moon

my niece writes

her first haiku

                Gergana Yaninska

 

first spring birds

the haiku group spreads

through the park

                Tore Sverredal

 

a tiny poem

for a tiny moment:

hummingbird wings

                Erica Olson

 

a haiku

in each small death—

scattered feathers

                Carole MacRury

 

 

February 2

IS (write about existence itself, or the existence of something, but don’t use the word “is” in your poem)

 

meditation—

finding proof of god in a

in a hummingbird

                Eider Green

 

At the crack of dawn

I open the rice paper door—

mist in the trees

                Iocasta Huppen

 

a light changes

this rain that could be

snow

                Angie Werren

 

wind in the branches

weather forecast

with sign language

                Viktoriya Marinova

 

the reassurance

of a friendly touch . . .

snow-dusted trees

                Marietta McGregor

 

a skip in the step of the child—lolly shop

                Belinda Broughton

 

winter sunshine the robin outsings me

                Caroline Skanne

 

rain drops—

dealing with

an existential crisis

                Rahmatou NanoRahma Sangotte

 

full moon

she almost scratches

her mosquito bites

                Helene Jäderberg

 

winter wind

the last leaf now

on top of the pile

                Stella Pierides

 

morning sun

time to breathe

and just be

                Deborah P Kolodji

 

first thunderclap the echoes of startled birds

                Sandi Pray

 

lazy breeze

the magician

and the unshuffled deck

                Cameron Mount

 

becoming an echo . . .

a pine needle slips

into a broken nest

                Kathy Uyen Nguyen

 

meditation

pink glow of dawn

behind the pines

                Barbara Kaufmann

 

in the center

of the morning glory. . .

everything

                Terri Hale French

 

soft tears again

for this unknown grief—

the silhouettes of crows

                Joanna Paterson

 

a bit of down stuck

to the egg in an aerie—

the encircling stars

                Linda Papanicolaou

 

the who

behind who I am . . .

cloudless sky

                Michele L. Harvey

 

refugees

left with nothing

but their lives

                Alison Williams

 

day moon I learn to just be

                Samar Ghose

 

park bench

the way the ducks quack

like I’m not there

                Chrissi Villa

 

I should have gone

through that door I remember

in my childhood tree

                Penny Harter

 

 

February 3
A (yes, just this letter of the alphabet—where will it take you? a what? or something starting with a?)

 

Blooming love—

his first name initial

in the sky

                Iocasta Huppen

 

almost free

the anchor

holding the child’s kite

                Art Kingston

 

silent windchime

the way a single glance

leaves a mark

                Anitha Varma

 

always there not there like the schwa in father my father

                Samar Ghose

 

appaloosa sky

a herd of clouds

grazing

                Michael Henry Lee

 

A is for apple—

a winter day spent

teaching the toddler

                Carole MacRury

 

Amadeus . . .

a feather lifts and spirals

just out of reach

                Sheila Windsor

 

winter moon

the A-Bbomb Ddome

casting a shadow

                Johnny Baranski

 

Azaleas

the cat sleeps under

a cloud of flowers

                Karla Decker

 

Aberystwyth

via Abergavenny

mist-shrouded mountains

                Rachel Green

 

the old woman

touching the letters

of a tombstone

                Paul David Mena

 

not on

anybody’s A-list

dandelion blooms

                Deborah P Kolodji

 

opera première

the breathless silence

after the tuning

                Tore Sverredal

 

always

always always always

rain

                Ida Freilinger

 

winter sunlight a whisper of dove wings

                Barbara Kaufmann

 

new beginning

she fills a whole page learning

to write a capitaol aA

                Helene Jäderberg

 

a

so difficult to remember

all the others

                Marina Bellini

 

 

February 4

HAND

 

fading light her hand at the door waving

                Rosemary Nissen-Wade

 

potter’s wheel

the way the clay

shapes her hands

                Terri Hale French

 

First spring rain

collecting it

in the palm of his hand

                Iocasta Huppen

 

stringing barbwire

the winter wind

in my hands

                Paul Wruck

 

first date

his sweaty hand

reaches for mine

                Barbara Kaufmann

 

stacks of paper

several hands high . . .

where does it all belong?

                Robert T. Franson

 

from one pocket to the other the handful of nothing that’s mine

                Johannes S. H. Bjerg

 

slow dancing

on a warm afternoon

his hand and the gnats

                Peggy Hale Bilbro

 

pale winter sky—

the honor student who never

raises his hand

                Paul David Mena

 

mugga’ tea . . .

the old poet warms

her gnarled hands

                Susan E. Buffington

 

a guilty verdict

handed down . . .

freezing rain

                Johnny Baranski

 

new flux if of refugees

hand to hand

passing welcome bags

                Carmen Sterba

 

ancient winter stars—

the archivist’s hands sheathed

in white cotton gloves

                Linda Papanicolaou

 

the preteen’s hand

no longer reaches for mine

mockingbird calls

                Cameron Mount

 

silver dollar in my hand,

Grandpa and I

walk to town

                Marilyn Deavers

 

origami . . .

the boat in the ocean

in her hand

                Sheila Windsor

 

unsung . . .

the hand behind

the selfie

                Ajaya Mahala

 

first steps

her little hand

in mine

                Tore Sverredal

 

handing over

the keys to the car—

dementia diagnosis

                Amy Losak

 

Aa map

spanning 91 years

Hher hand

                Rowena McGregor

 

his fingers

around my finger . . .

delicate sun

                John Hawk

 

touched by light . . .

my mother’s hands

in the old photograph

                Samar Ghose

 

on the hands

of the widower . . .

mismatched mittens

                Carole MacRury

 

tiny hand—

such a grasp

on my heart

                Patty Hardin

 

in this space

where solitude and i dwell

my folded hands

                Gillena Cox

 

 

February 5
BECKONING

 

ladies of the evening

waving as if they

knew me

                Michael Henry Lee

 

hospice window

the roar of a spring tide

receding

                Sheila Windsor

 

Valentine’s Day

beckonning for a cigarette

the homeless woman

                Line Jolyot

 

heat wave—

a blossom beckons

to the bee

                Carole MacRury

 

that gap in the hedge

still beckoning explorers—

the old neighborhood

                Shelley Krause

 

days are lengthening now

and flowers starting to bloom . . .

the road beckons

                Robert T. Franson

 

day moon—

a winter thaw pulls me out

of solitude

                Barbara Kaufmann

 

come here come here come here unidentified birdsong

                Cameron Mount

 

prison yard baseball

the 3third base coach

waves me home

                Johnny Baranski

 

summer evening she beckons from the shadows

                Rosemary Nissen-Wade

 

this deafness—

she follows the beckoning hand

into the crowded bar

                Barbara Strang

 

following the trail

of jasmine scent . . .

winter moonlight

                Chrissi Villa

 

 

February 6
A DOOR

 

at dusk

on the door to my motel

. . . mating moths

                Carole MacRury

 

hospital doors

the comings and goings

of a winter’s day

                Art Kingston

 

starling’s song

a door ajar

at sunset

                Marina Bellini

 

snow-covered hills

the sound of a radio

from the open barn door

                Paul Wruck

 

a door left open

at the wedding party

sound of waves

                Kathabela Wilson

 

paw scratches

on my screen door . . .

first day of spring

                Chrissi Villa

 

virgin snow I resist

                Johannes S. H. Bjerg

 

 

February 7
HALF

 

raccoon . . .

half in, half out

of the dog’s door

                Carole MacRury

 

Windy day

an empty pot makes half circles

on the terrace

                Iocasta Huppen

 

half hearted . . .

the old poet on

Valentine’s Day

                Susan E. Buffington

 

your side of the bed—

the space we hold

for each other

                Dawn Apanius


                Samar Ghose

 

night lamp—

he tells me only

half the truth

                Sanjuktaa Asopa

 

suggested edits

cut his enjoyment by half

—acceptance letter

                Eric Lohman

 

half moon

a lonely kitten on

the doorstep

                Vibeke Laier

 

memories

of our honeymoon

coconut husks

                John Hawk

 

spring warmth

my brother and I split

a popsicle

                Michele L. Harvey

 

approaching snow—

the glass

half full

                Paul David Mena

 

the ominous mood

of a half-remembered dream

fast moving clouds

                Alison Williams

 

another year . . .

only one of us

on our favourite walk

                Grace Galton

 

chocolate hard from the fridge can’t cut you half what a pity

                Rosemary Nissen-Wade

 

half way through

the board meeting

skylight rain

                Sheila Windsor

 

even half asleep

we know the other is there—

the moon behind clouds

                Shelley Krause

 

 

February 8
OPENED

 

lingering dream

sun’s warmth orange

on my lids

                Anitha Varma

 

from down the block

he heares the can

of opened tuna

                Michael Henry Lee

 

a hand is

beckoning—

the half-opened door

                Barbara Strang

 

opened can—

the expensive meat

the cat won’t eat

                Bill Waters

 

seed pack opened—

how my garden

will be this year

                Dawn Apanius

 

snowy field—

the eyes of the hawk

open to winter

                Carole MacRury

 

winter fog—

a newly opened

line of credit

                Paul David Mena

 

that moment

when forgiveness is granted . . .

wind rippled grass

                Michele L. Harvey

 

opened door

a white lilac scent

comes my way

                Marie-Alice Maire

 

surrender a door to silence

                Johannes S. H. Bjerg

 

old barn door

open just enough

for time to pass

                Sandi Pray

 

sultry evening

neighbours’ baby

in full voice

                Rowena McGregor

 

opened flower

an Idaho rapist’s sentence

commuted to six months

                Rachel Green

 

the window opened

a little bird wants to share

my lunch

                Helene Jäderberg

 

still unopened

the boxes we moved

from her last room

                Kathabela Wilson

 

late winter

the sky opens up

to the stars

                Tore Sverredal

 

 

February 9
A MIRROR

 

probing deeper

the dentist moves

his mirror

                Art Kingston

 

night falls

on the mirror

leaving me alone

                Michael A. Moore

 

bathing suit season

someone else’s thighs

in the dressing room mirror

                Terri Hale French

 

I remember her now—

a face in this old silvered

mirror

                Angie Werren

 

cataract surgery—

the wrinkles

I never knew I had

                Pamela Cooper

 

reflecting

on the past . . .

a vintage mirror

                Bill Waters

 

on the bathroom mirror

“It’s over,” scrawled

in lipstick

                Johnny Baranski

 

midwinter

the face in the mirror

avoids eye contact

                Johannes S. H. Bjerg

 

snow on the windowsill

my Mommy’s hair

on the mirror

                Gergana Yaninska

 

window shopping glimpses of my mother

                Eider Green

 

funhouse mirrors

she finds one with the right

reflection

                Helene Jäderberg

 

during chemo,

in each morning’s mirror

my newborn head

                Penny Harter

 

 

February 10
WIPED

 

my steps fill with snow

all trace of my passing

wiped out by the wind

                Shelley Krause

 

traffic jam—

the unchanging rhythm

of windshield wipers

                Ida Freilinger

 

the juvenile’s

record expunged

spring rain

                Johnny Baranski

 

the counter wiped

and coffee brewing . . .

I whistle a tune

                Bill Waters

 

what’s left

of the june bug

sunset drive

                John Hawk

 

to and fro

across the rainbow

car wipers

                Sanjuktaa Asopa

 

 

February 11

CLEAN

 

words I regret

scrubbing my sink

over and over

                Chrissi Villa

 

stage set

the janitors last sweep

before lights out

                Art Kingston

 

snowmelt

little sparrow bathes

in the big blue sky

                Pat Nelson

 

shelter mom—

spit-cleaning the face

of her kid

                Carole MacRury

 

clean

as a whistle

the meadowlark solo

                Michael Henry Lee

 

the kind of morning

when the sky’s washed clean…

laundry on the line

                Michele L. Harvey

 

jumping jacks—

how to make

a snow angel

                Stella Pierides

 

early morning

the tea hut path clean

for guests

                Carmen Sterba

 

among the crocus

and melting snow

a bare bone

                Peggy Hale Bilbro

 

school girls

clean the chalk erasers

on one another

                Marilyn Ashbaugh

 

clean street

a boy is cycling

with big mirrors

                Nikolay Penchev

 

clean as a whistle—

and then I see

the whistle

                Paul David Mena

 

the food bank

shelves picked clean

Ssnow Mmoon

                Johnny Baranski

 

middle of winter . . .

the fresh scent

of clean laundry

                Bill Waters

 

washing curtains—

all the windows draped

in sky

                Sanjuktaa Asopa

 

clean window

my reflection

vanishes

                Ardelle Ray

 

chafing sails . . .

he finally comes clean

about the redhead

                Pris Campbell

 

after their deaths

I lose them again, cleaning

out my parent’s home

                Penny Harter

 

 

February 12
IT (use this word in your poem, but try not to say what “it” is)

 

whispers . . .

the redhead is the girl

who has it

                Pris Campbell

 

the pale right wing

luminous and torn,

it rests a while

                Mary Kendall

 

mayfly

just when you think

you’ve got it

                Michael Henry Lee

 

it’s all I can’t see

from my window

winter fog

                Barbara Kaufmann

 

it freezes

on the night wind—

wolf moon

                Maggie James

 

snow on the pine

she writes a new haiku

on a pink post-it

                Helene Jäderberg

 

five years old

yet how she plays it . . .

spring rain

                Sheila Windsor

 

clouds—

the urge

to try it

                Rahmatou NanoRahma Sangotte

 

I’ll know it

when I see it . . .

river fog

                Johnny Baranski

 

Iit takes a village,

Tthe peaceful song

Oof chirping birds

                Deborah B. Shepherd

 

thunder snow . . .

what is it that the

old poet hears

                Susan E. Buffington

 

knowing it,

not knowing it . . .

winter sparrow

                Sanjuktaa Asopa

 

Nice, but what is it?

a viewer’s head tilts sideways

at the spring Art fair

                Linda Papanicolaou

 

whatever it was

that feeling again

bony moon

                Sandi Pray

 

no surprise

that it’s a surprise…

sixtieth year

                Michele L. Harvey

 

as Ginsberg said

into the old pond it went

“Kerplunk!”

                Kathabela Wilson

 

winter moon

for a brief moment

it stops howling

                Tore Sverredal

 

 

February 13
IS (use this specific word in your poem, but be wary of introducing too much judgment into the poem)

 

Let’s meet

at the twenty poplars pond—

life is short

                Iocasta Huppen

 

Is it just me?

the scent of

Aleppo soap

                Corine Timmer

 

grassy field

vibrant with

wind’s isness

                Hansha Teki

 

footsteps

through the fog—

is it you?

                Carole MacRury

 

is this silence

just the wind

without sails

                Art Kingston

 

it is what it is

I tell myself, deciphering

the wind

                Penny Harter

 

scarlet begonias . . .

my mother is

still in the garden

                Devin Harrison

 

frosty morning—

it is spring

more or less

                Johnny Baranski

 

ice chunks

drift in the river . . .

spring is sprung

                Randall Herman

 

a dozen roses—

what is and isn’t

a valentine

                Paul David Mena

 

sunshine and shadow . . .

the time it takes

to accept what is

                Michele L. Harvey

 

there’s a time

for everything—

melting snow

                Stella Pierides

 

 

February 14
A WAY OF (either fill in a word after “of” or write a poem about a “way” of some kind)

 

sunlight

the way a mother smiles

at her newborn

                Barbara Kaufmann

 

losing it

the way finds me—

woodland hike

                Penny Harter

 

you laugh like a friend

ringing bells in the temple

above Lake Biwa

                Patsy Turner

 

midwinter phone call—

the way the space between us

falls away

                Shelley Krause

 

nature has a way of

forced remembrance

cardinal against snow

                Anne Larbes DeLorean

 

tea brewing . . .

the way the moon fills

the pause of cicadas

                Kathy Uyen Nguyen

 

mourning doves—

a way of knowing you

are here

                Angie Werren

 

misted mirror . . .

the way he hides

what he feels

                Pris Campbell

 

the way—

the circle he paces

at the home

                Roy Kindelberger

 

blossom rain . . .

the way she laughs

at all my jokes

                John Hawk

 

peony petals

the way her puppy eyes

gaze at me

                Chrissi Villa

 

in the way

of the heron

I walk the tidepool

                Carole MacRury

 

 

February 15
RETURNING TO (what have you often returned to in life, or would you like to return to?)

 

frog spawn

for a little while

I am nine again

                Grace Galton

 

back in the chair

my tongue explores

a new crater

                Sheila Windsor

 

home

the blue trout we’ve cooked

Valentine’s Day

                Line Jolyot

 

wild geese

returning

the compliment

                Michael Henry Lee

 

pressing reset

on the clock

dawn chorus

                Art Kingston

 

Valentine’s Day—

sunlight returning to

his walk home from school

                Shelley Krause

 

dried bouquet

her hand returns

to her cheek

                Susan Murata

 

my old bomber jacket

I slip back into

“yes dear”

                Samar Ghose

 

turning around

to see the cherry blossoms

once again

                Michael A. Moore

 

old neighborhood—

the climbing tree

beyond my reach

                Carole MacRury

 

oh, to see once more

the Dance of the Spirits

in the northern sky

                Robert T. Franson

 

moon over head

I return

to my old home

                Ajaya Mahala

 

children’s laughter

in the old orchard—

returning to the fold

                Nicole Pottier

 

return to sender

unexpected spring showers

wash away the snow

                Ardelle Ray

 

returning to home

I exchange Mt. Fuji

for Mt. Rainier

                Carmen Sterba

 

a yawn

and a stretch

. . . returning to now

                Bill Waters

 

warming sun . . .

I wrap myself in

your forgiveness

                Michele L. Harvey

 

longings rise . . .

my folks wait with a warm coat

at the airport

                Pris Campbell

 

City of her childhood

queuing in the rain

for pretzels

                Iocasta Huppen

 

finding pennies

in melted snow . . .

I feel young again

                Pamela Cooper

 

 

February 16

NATURE (write about something natural rather than human-made that you can see right now)

 

Sunset—

sitting for a while

by the lake

                Iocasta Huppen

 

cloudy moon

the call of an owl

fading

                Michael Henry Lee

 

desert willow

not yet spring

for you

                Ardelle Ray

 

blades of grass

stiffening in the wind—

I lose your number

                Shelley Krause

 

my path to joy

swallows dipping in the sky

never a straight line

                Symanntha Renn

 

morning stillness

sunshine

in the winter garden

                Alison Williams

 

pastel twilight

my footsteps fill the sky

with finches

                Sandi Pray

 

before I reach

for the smart phone—

fresh snow

                Paul David Mena

 

into the silence

the lament of a

wood pigeon

                Grace Galton

 

sunbirds flit

in and out of sun beams

porch swing

                ‎Anitha Varma

 

almost spring and yet

stems of the friendship plant

not yet pink

                Kathabela Wilson

 

 

February 17

MOON

 

day moon

knowing I overstayed

my welcome

                Carmen Sterba

 

morning traffic

a waning moon

for company

                Marina Bellini

 

terrorist warning . . .

the moon rises

undeterred

                Ajaya Mahala

 

open window

tonight the moon speaks

only to me

                Allal Taleb

 

day moon

on spring ice

a lone goose

                Dawn Apanius

 

balmy night

my spirit yields to

its moon nature

                Hansha Teki

 

long dry moon—

the yard still filled with

unraked leaves

                Angie Werren

 

a coyote wanders

the cul-de-sac

vanishing moon

                John Hawk

 

pay day—

a waning

gibbous moon

                Paul David Mena

 

as if conscience

weren’t enough . . .

moonrise

                Michele L. Harvey

 

hunger moon . . .

the old hippie

tunes his guitar

                Robert T. Franson

 

blue moon—

how white

the picket fence

                Pamela Cooper

 

eye operation

I can see the man

in the moon

                Barbara Strang

 

winter chill

why must I walk so far

to meet the moon

                Kathabela Wilson

 

prairie grasses

shimmering

buffalo moon

                Erica Olson

 

 

February 18

NATURE (again, but something you’ve experienced in another season rather than this one)

 

hoar frost

the drive home

from her lover

                Patsy Turner

 

first truly warm day—

big sister counting

the baby’s toes

                Shelley Krause

 

late inning heat

the relief pitcher fans

their last batter

                Johnny Baranski

 

quiet evening

awaiting the head frog

to assemble a chorus

                Carmen Sterba

 

a bumblebee drones

from flower to flower

slow news day

                Alison Williams

 

birds of paradise

the bright blue tongue

of a giraffe

                Kathabela Wilson

 

leaf piles

where are all

the children?

                Cameron Mount

 

 

February 19

CHERRY BLOSSOM

 

Flight of skylarks—

prayers in the temple

turn into cherry blossoms

                Virginia Popescu

 

deserted house

only

the cherry blossoms

                Marina Bellini

 

the pinkness

of my baby’s fingers . . .

cherry blossoms

‎                Anitha Varma

 

cherry blossom—

I love myself

a little bit better

                Nink Nonk

 

bored to death

with cherry blossoms

Issa’s snail

                Hansha Teki

 

sakura

just what the goat

wanted for breakfast

                Patsy Turner

 

walking among

cherry blossoms

the blind couple

                John Hawk

 

all day

the wind wanders—

cherry blossoms

                Maggie James

 

tiny cherry buds . . .

it’s okay to be

daydreaming

                Sanjuktaa Asopa

 

cherry blossoms . . .

even the toddler’s tantrums

short-lived

                Kathy Uyen Nguyen

 

winter morning—

on the teapot

cherry blossoms

                Rahmatou NanoRahma Sangotte

 

the thought

of never knowing

cherry blossoms

                Sandi Pray

 

cherry blossoms

a girl puts on

her first lipstick

                Nikolay Penchev

 

cherry blossoms—

a carefully cropped

photograph

                Paul David Mena

 

cherry blossoms

fill the gutters

too soon, too soon

                Cameron Mount

 

even among

the lies and deception

cherry blossom

                Alison Williams

 

under my dead father’s tree cherry blossoms

                Pris Campbell

 

falling in love

for the first time

cherry blossom rain

                Michael Henry Lee

 

leaving

cherry petals in my hair

tree pose

                Kathabela Wilson

 

daydreams . . .

a pathway carpeted

with cherry blossoms

                Chrissi Villa

 

 

February 20
NATURE (yet again, but this time think of something seasonal that’s unique or special where you live)

 

cows crowd

the only tree

ohio sun

                John Hawk

 

quake anniversary

a lone spoonbill

stalks the mudflats

                Barbara Strang

 

morning mist—

daffodil buds on the brink

of yellow

                Judt Shrode

 

little sparrow

too early for the yellow

blossoms

                Angie Werren

 

snowbird season . . .

untanned legs wade deep

into the turquoise surf

                Pris Campbell

 

red buds

always the first to know

it’s spring

                Michael Henry Lee

 

Only the snow

sitting on the bench—

deserted street

                Virginia Popescu

 

tell me

how the sky

loves the stars

                Kathi Wright

 

 

February 21
FALLING

 

falling snow—

even the woodpecker’s day

fills up with quiet

                Shelley Krause

 

falling in love

with every red hydrant:

the nosy dog

                Bill Waters

 

falling rain

a thirst for some

real news

                Johnny Baranski

 

pines . . .

only the sound

of falling snow

                John Hawk

 

first rain

washing winter

from the window

                Karla Decker

 

as if the stars

weren’t enough . . .

falling in love

                Michele L. Harvey

 

falling temperatures—

the grumbling

among crows

                Paul David Mena

 

Presidents’ Day

falling silent in remembrance

of the truth

                Alison Williams

 

first flakes

how gently you settle

on my mind

                Grace Galton

 

a falling feather lands in my path I remember you

                Rosemary Nissen-Wade

 

Meteor shower—

she’s running out

of wishes

                Iocasta Huppen

 

reason enough to talk to a stranger falling blossoms

                Shrikaanth K. Murthy

 

falling apart

the construction worker’s

packed lunch

                Stella Pierides

 

finding the low points

on every branch

morning dew

                Art Kingston

 

travelling

falling in love

with tea

                Line Jolyot

 

 

February 22

LEAF

 

as if there were

some fantastic ending

leaf swirl

                Steve Smolak

 

gunnera—

a scarlet maple leaf

deep within

                Barbara Strang

 

dripping icicle . . .

a frozen leaf

extends it an inch

                Paul Wruck

 

crispy leaf

floats downstream . . .

daytime campfire

                Randall Herman

 

wandering leaf

the places I’ve gone

in dreams

                Kathy Uyen Nguyen

 

the convict turns

over a new leaf—

jail journal

                Johnny Baranski

 

falling leaves—

the day a tree branch broke

beneath my feet

                Roy Kindelberger

 

all at once

the crows fly off

leafless tree

                John Hawk

 

how much rain

you can hold . . .

curled autumn leaf

                Sanjuktaa Asopa

 

always too soon

the change from leaf blower

to snow blower

                Paul David Mena

 

leafing out . . .

baby’s first step

becomes his second

                Michele L. Harvey

 

 

February 23

NATURE (once more, but think of human nature this time)

 

choosing

what to believe—

dead nettle

                Eider Green

 

punt passing

a new batch of tourists

stares at the ducks

                Barbara Strang

 

day dreaming

making up my own

fake news

                Pat Nelson

 

covering up

vomit on the museum floor

hardwood sawdust

                Joseph Connolly

 

city visit the too-quick speech of strangers

                Rosemary Nissen-Wade

 

endeavoring

to bring out the best in you

hardstone carving

                Devin Harrison

 

peacock feathers one selfie after another

                Chrissi Villa

 

 

February 24

IN SHORT (write a very brief/minimal haiku)

 

twilight cue the cricket chorus

                Grace Galton

 

ants—

coming

or going?

                Ajaya Mahala

 

gazing

into the past

pink azaleas

                Steve Smolak

 

beach day puddled ice cream

                Pris Campbell

 

spring

watch

movement

                Art Kingston

 

rusty hinge—me too, me too

                Cameron Mount

 

for one

show only

mayfly

                Johnny Baranski

 

low tide

wrinkled

beach

                Sanjuktaa Asopa

 

salt flat sky

                John Hawk

 

bells

all day

snow

                Karla Decker

 

first frost

waiting hearse

                Michele L. Harvey

 

fog

lifting

shadows

                Pamela Cooper

 

s NO w

                Eider Green

 

coldark

                Sheila Windsor

 

cold comfort—

spending fFebruary

in shorts

                Eric Lohman

 

dreamcatcher those that get away

                Anitha Varma

 

 

February 25

TO (write a poem in which you use the word “to”)

 

out to lunch

the waitress smiles

at the daffodils

                Art Kingston

 

to do list

pear

ripens

                Patsy Turner

 

to speak

in stars

would be

to know

the dark

                Kathi Wright

 

dew

leaf

to

leaf

silence

                Shrikaanth K. Murthy

 

as if to say

no, not yet

late season snow

                Michele L. Harvey

 

storm watch

treetops whisper

branch to branch

                Terri Hale French

 

to and fro . . .

the nest builders

choosing names

                Eider Green

 

going to sleep

with the light on

intergalactic dream

                Carmen Sterba

 

from north to south

a freighter

on the horizon

                Bill Waters

 

to be or not to be

that parent

in the crowd

                Paul David Mena

 

along the road,

listening to the bird song

among the raindrops

                Nicole Pottier

 

cool summer fog

just before dawn

cool summer fog

chocolate donettes to go

                Anne Larbes DeLorean

 

summer wind

during the solemn talk

she needs to sneeze

                Helene Jäderberg

 

drought . . .

the brook forgets

to sing its song

                Grace Galton

 

level crossing . . .

roadside daisies nodding

to the wind

                Jayashree Maniyil

 

to do . . .

erase all

to-do’s

                Robert T. Franson

 

 

February 26

OUR (our what? see where that will take you, and try to use “our” in your poem)

 

Evening with friends

their baby sleeps

in our room

                Iocasta Huppen

 

in the living room

dancing with our mother

father

                Joseph Connolly

 

our walk, among

daffodils and magnolia blossoms

winter ends

                Steve Smolak

 

our time together

short but sweet

prison yard snow

                Johnny Baranski

 

at the protest site—

tearing down a sign reading

“this land is our land”

                Paul David Mena

 

winter’s end

things that were ours

now yours or mine

                Alison Williams

 

in our backyard . . .

clouds pretending

to be ducks

                Pris Campbell

 

soft mantras

our little cat falls into

her last dream

                Helene Jäderberg

 

spring frost

remembering

our first kiss

                John Hawk

 

dappled shade our first walk together

                Chrissi Villa

 

 

February 27

BUDDHA

 

Buddha under snow—

for him too

seasons move on

                Iocasta Huppen

 

journey’s end

Buddha in the shape

of a blister

                Eider Green

 

flutter of prayer flags—

the Dalai Lama laughing

at his own joke

                Judt Shrode

 

on the road

hoping not

to meet the Buddha

                Terri Hale French

 

hazardous load

dashboard Buddha

leads the way

                John Hawk

 

garden party . . .

the old poet wears

her Buddha smile

                Susan E. Buffington

 

a snowy path . . .

candles lead to

Buddha

                Corine Timmer

 

he teakettle sings

we achieve

enlightenment

                Richard Magahiz

 

who knows what evil

lurks in the hearts of men?

the Buddha knows

                Johnny Baranski

 

lost in joy

the tranquil Buddha

on our bookshelf

                Bill Waters

 

Rrobin on a branch

Bbellied up to the sunshine

Sspringtime’s Buddha

                Deborah B. Shepherd

 

after the meal

the belly of the Buddha

is just how I feel

                Scott Dickson

 

garden buddha

a bumblebee joins

the bamboo sound

                Sandi Pray

 

bedeviling me

out of my buddha mind

one lone fly

                Michele L. Harvey

 

spring greening

the stone buddha’s smile

remains unchanged

                Alison Williams

 

 

February 28

NATURE (yet again—whatever you want to write about from the natural world, and try to keep it a pure-nature poem)

 

shallow pond . . .

blue heron

in deep focus

                Corine Timmer

 

migrating swallow

the pull of home

in both directions

                Terri Hale French

 

morning walk . . .

all the water reeds

lean to one side

                Jayashree Maniyil

 

after the rain

camellia blossoms underfoot—

Buddha path

                Devin Harrison

 

South breeze

swaying banana leaves

reflect the moon

                Ajaya Mahala

 

passing shower . . .

the warming turtles backtrack

into cool

                Pris Campbell

 

thorny quince in bloom—

a birdcall pierces

the morning

                Judt Shrode

 

sultry sun

a last dragon cloud

wisps away

                Hansha Teki

 

endless afternoon . . .

a copperhead swims

across the lake

                John Hawk

 

snowmelt . . .

the river brimming

with clouds

                Pamela Cooper

 

before sundown

the fiery glow

of a waterfall

                Chrissi Villa