.

snow on the island
the manitou's voice
through the trees


.

.


'Iran Chokes Off Internet On Eve of Student Rallies'

Associated Press - December 6, 2009




Sheikh Fazlollah Noori (Persian: شیخ فضل‌الله نوری, d. July 31, 1909, Tehran) was a prominent Shiite Muslim cleric in Iran during the late 19th and early 20th century who fought against the Iranian Constitutional Revolution and was executed for treason as a result. Today he is considered a martyr (shahid) in the fight against democracy by Islamic conservatives in Iran.



'Thousands Protest In Iran, Battling Police'

Associated Press December 7, 2009 (link)


Iran Student Protests Continue

Sydney Morning Herald December 10, 2009 (link)

.




a pigeon's red eye
in shock and angry
to learn of dying


winter bluejay
childhood flown away
far too soon

comfortable now
a fresh dusting of snow
in my old black hat


through the window
that I refuse to close
bitter wind


...

December 2009 Dottie Dot Awards

.





The mascot and editor-in-chief of the Haiku Bandit Society has determined the three best Moon Viewing Party poems for the month of December 2009. Forthwith, here are the recipients of this month's Dottie Dot awards!






purple stains
on a cold plate
storm moon


Anne



winter night
a remnant moon —
raising my cup
shadow and I
drink to each other


Chen-ou



What to say...
In this funny world
the Moon, like you and me
is but a mute spectator


Devika



(click here for previous month's Dottie awards)

.

December 2009 moon viewing party

.




no paper trail
yet still it exists
first cold moon


*********************************************************************************


You are cordially invited to our tenth moon viewing party of 2009!
The full moon rises on Wednesday, December 2nd.

To submit a poem (all submissions remain the property of its author)
you may email me here: HAIKU BANDIT SOCIETY-or just post in comments. Please include your pen name so we might accredit your poem properly!

To see previous month's moon poems click here.

Happy moon gazing!

*********************************************************************************

cheshire moon
so bright amongst stars
the allure...
no benign warmth
in your frozen smile




















twin plumes of incense
from across the ocean
daikakuji
enough to warm
this icy moon?



















Re-
Vision ****

the swoop of tires at 3 am
no different than any other night
but for the crumpled moon
and lamplit pools of sodium yellow
busy with swirling snow

the motorists behind dirty windshields
hiding their real destination
their sluggish drunkeness
their true fear
a camera's prying eye
mounted high every quarter-mile

futility
the ultimate authority
one can only imagine
as some secret command
relayed from a lone dark hall
...but who's watching now?

is it
the steady drip of melt-off
from these damaged eaves?
or the obsidian blackness of worn asphalt
that absorbs all the punishment
this world can offer?

not likely
the ceaseless bleat of a car alarm
that nobody wants to turn off
or staccato 'whoop!' of a police car's siren
engine racing, lights flashing,
in stealthy pursuit down abandoned avenues

or maybe
where the night's street people
emerge from shadow,
a carriage of menace, voices petulant,
with their dope, knives, guns
and chips on their shoulders

seeing me
motionless
in the alleyway
hooded, quiet, smoke
rising from a cigarette
drooped carelessly from my lips

might they wonder
am I the final authority?
a look over the shoulder,
to amble down wet streets
defiant, finally, in manner
fear placed on hold

then I realize
no one's in charge here
nobody is...'cause I just know
and the snow turns back to rain
and cold light reflects off the dark road
and that moon-well, its just gone



















busy with swirling snow
hiding their real destination
futility
that nobody wants to turn off
is it
not likely
seeing me
might they wonder
no one's in charge here?
and that moon-well, its just gone


slow-is-fast





















night skiing-
moon behind a veil
of man made snow

John Merryfield





















full moon
a white chrysanthemum
on her night stand


El Coyote




















this haiku
written on my beer coaster
full moon

El Coyote



















three-quarter moon
just the low tide
and I

T.Migratorius



















Washing our face
in the same pond
November moon and me -
the night air hangs
thick with remorse


Devika























What to say...
In this funny world
the Moon, like you and me
is but a mute spectator

Devika



















icy fruit
borne of the last ginkgo
a silver moon





















no moon here last night: rain
i've missed the boat entirely


Grant




















drunk and giddy,
cold chrysanthemum wine~
the moon gazers























bright lights, big city,
the crowds stopped at the crosswalk ~
looking at the moon!

btwink



















winter night
a remnant moon —
raising my cup
shadow and I
drink to each other


Chen-ou Liu





















hide and seek -
behind the chimney
the midnight moon


Anne




















purple stains
on a cold plate
storm moon


Anne




















clouded over
remembering
last month's full moon

Adelaide B. Shaw






















a few paragraphs
of Henry Thoreau's journal;
most I've ever read!
so many winters have passed
that I've learned to watch the moon






...

.

in a plastic cage
high up on a balcony
the neighbor's cock crows
looking at me below
as I talk to a dog

.

holidaze

.

just enough
to tide us over
'til black friday



stars so bright...
some folks have no taste
in yard schlock



a drunk
at the top of the stairs
pass the turkey



our only son
brings over his dogs
grand babies


special for you
mango and papaya
from a steel can



shitbox yellow dodge
T-boned on payne avenue
really miss that ride



autumn avenue
a man out walking
sings of lost love

...

.

withered grass
discreetly tempers
the tang of iron

.

.




fanatical!
the machine next door
reads my poems





.

.

the elders dine
on crane and turtle
one thousand years old

...

the sun shines clear
on withering grasses
its sudden warmth
so fragile - as witness,
the cold three day moon

.

each morning
the same corner
the same time
flights of pigeons
in autumn sky

...

shade from autumn's trees
Tabby, stealthy and sleek,
stalks the guiltless birds


...

drunk on the wine
of choice morning dew
days rendered endless
grasshopper, the dead poet,
a fool for heartless frost


...

veteran's day redux

.


.

My best friend Steve is a Vietnam vet. Bless his heart, he never broached the subject until I'd known him for years.
He told some odd tales, hilarious, surreal...once he won a medal for stealing a jeep. A long story...
We have a last man's club of sorts: a bottle of Johnny Walker Black, a pair of clean socks and a pack of Winstons in a re-gift wine box-everything a guy needs.
Someday, one of us will piss on the other's grave.

Dragon's breath,
the forest alight with flame-
red, green, orange, black
a ghost beckons, laughing,
beautiful and serene

.

.

north county line
a family of crows
emerged from gray trees


.

.

a conversation
later on the day
autumn deepens

.

morning ritual
at the laundromat
the street person
holds open the door

.

.

On Joe Pye's weed
gently caressing
the sleepy bees

...

new moon
for want of a mysterious vision
sometimes i light a careless fire
to look longingly
beyond its heat and flame
never realizing
I could be consumed
become the offering
of a victimless pyre
to be engulfed
alone, forever searching...
is this which i really seek?

(revision #5)


...

.

in the cold dawn
talking to myself,
nothing held back


.

.

cold and bitter
this late autumn rain
I tell her to walk the dog

.

.

soft violet light
before mackerel clouds
come rushing in
not a single visit
to the Japanese garden


.

.

.





the scarecrow's topcoat
an inauspicious fog
of patchwork stitching



.

nICK,

lOOKING UP hEIDEGGER NOw.
wHAT DOES THE TEXT READ IN/THIS PHOTo?

cONTEMPLATING dEATH,
i CHUCKLE/AT MY pEASANT sHOEs


...

walkies

crisp autumn air...
for every tree
along the path,
a curious sniff













a brittle leaf
skitters and tumbles
across cold pavement
concentration broken












morning frost
cushions our footfalls
...absentmindedly,
picking up litter













shadows lengthen
and stretch to the north
dog and I
concur













..

meditation
autumn rain
falls in layers



(photo courtesy of Nicholas Sorlien)

a rock, defenseless
against wind and sand
the half-moon wanes



(photo courtesy of Nicholas Sorlien)

one ripe tomato
nestled amongst oranges
the bowl chipped

.

hunter's moon
the jade rabbit gleaming
in the wolf's blue eye

walking 'round the bog
a pitiful discovery
...dead mole
what will be, I wonder,
my own death poem?

stirring my coffee
on this autumn morning
perfect color

volumes of poetry
just arrived in the mail
taken aback
by ephemeral beauty
I marvel at the postage

oak leaves and shadow
windstrewn shapes
tinged with decay
autumn contemplation

November 2009 Dottie Dot Awards

The mascot and editor-in-chief of the Haiku Bandit Society has determined the three best Moon Viewing Party poems for the month of November 2009. Forthwith, here are the recipients of this month's Dottie Dot awards!

moonlight
at the bottom of the jar
an old sixpence

- Sandra Simpson




lunar light
a quilter's stitch
across clouds

comrade harps




restless night
the full moon unstitches
nightmares

Barbara A Taylor
NSW Australia
.
.
.
.

anxious sparrows
noisy in the attic
winter's approach

November Moon Viewing Party

.
.




Cassiopeia
traced boldly in dust
...cold moon



*********************************************************************************


You are cordially invited to our ninth moon viewing party of 2009!
The full moon rises on Monday, November 2nd.

To submit a poem (all submissions remain the property of the author)
you may email me here: HAIKU BANDIT SOCIETY-or just post in comments. Please include your pen name so we might accredit your poem properly!

To see previous month's moon poems click here.

Happy moon gazing!

*********************************************************************************

a mutt waits
at the liquor store entrance
halloween moon

John Merryfield















hamburgers
all the way to the moon

basho's bastard













Skipping rope
in the sky, found a light year
on the moon.

altadenahiker





autumn deepens
neither I or the moon
become master

bandit















13th night moon
police sirens echo
through the alley

bandit





flat on the wall
moonlight
creeps to the door

mountain-ash





moonlight
at the bottom of the jar
an old sixpence

- Sandra Simpson





lunar light
a quilter's stitch
across clouds

comrade harps





restless night
the full moon unstitches
nightmares

Barbara A Taylor
NSW Australia




...

strange wind
wet leaves and scudding cloud
rabbits escape the moon

autumn contemplation
my thoughts...
shades of gray

pigeons synchronize
their aerobatic flight
brisk and cold

lamplit breath
floats along the shore
ghost stories
river currents
deceptive in the dark

Dalloway / bandit









withered birch
hidden amidst green pine
mistaken for ghosts









possessed by the moon
the monster lives and breathes
in my heart

























autumn in May -
not one of the pumpkins
is grinning ... / Lorin Ford



halloween
I go to the party
as myself... / Lorin Ford


























Halloween nightdance -
the lucent smile of the cool moon
through his mask of see-through clouds ... / Devika










strange how sound travels
were once these wetlands
home to spirits?












Frankenstein with shades
a neighbour asks
if I'm dressing up... / comrade harps









halloween takeout
a ghost spine T-shirt boy
gets his mom to order... / Alan Summers



allhallowmas...
the goblins go back
into their books... / Alan Summers



...

I'll be posting a trio of Halloween poems soon. Realizing there is safety in numbers, I invite anyone to join in-if they dare. Put a verse in comments here and I'll copy and paste it to the Halloween post.

signs of the camp
the downy woodpecker
teases me so

mortal current
mist from the river
lifts me to the trees

through a battered steel door
slightly ajar
oh, so carefully
I slip my words in edgewise

romping merrily
through autumn's faded flowers
bodhisattva

Nagaoka-kyo ‘Vestiges’ Ginko-Kukai

This 27th September past, the fledging Haiku Bandit Society took part in an international poetry exchange with the Hailstone Haiku Circle based in Japan, a group nearly a decade old who explore writing haiku and other Japanese poetic forms in English and Japanese. Their members, past and present, harken from all over the world.

In effect, taking the Bandits under their wing, the Hailstones kindly invited us to the exchange which featured the theme, 'Vestiges', with inspiration to be garnered on separate ginko walks which occurred nearly simultaneously on both sides of the globe. The Hailstones chose the site of Japan's short-lived eighth century capital Nagaoka-Kyo. The Bandits, with members from California to Tennessee and north from Minnesota to Ontario, relied on each one's own ingenuity for viable ginko sites.

Despite the distances separating each group's participants, all were united in the common cause of advancing the knowledge of haiku and its poetic beauty.

After a long day of ginko inspiration, each group collected, reviewed, and then culled their best poems (Bandits produced an amazing total of 80 candidates!) to send to the other for mutual enjoyment and critique, with those judged on that day to be the top three awarded with an exchange of prizes!

Here, then, follow each group's selections.
(Names highlighted link to that individual author's or group's blog site.)

AMERICAN SELECTION OF JAPANESE HAIKU



the emperor’s governance:
a dragonfly patrols it
in the breeze

Hisashi Miyazaki, Osaka

Nothing to mark
The cursed capital –
Loosestrife flowers

John Dougill, Kyoto

The Court is gone –
Still the ginkgo tree yields
Its golden nuts

Toshi Ida, Kameoka

JAPANESE SELECTION OF AMERICAN HAIKU



first kiss
the statue of a prime minister
holding his lapel

K.A. Martin, Ottawa

a thousand voices
and then…
autumn sparrows

William Sorlien, St. Paul

indian summer
jerusalem artichokes
mark the camp

Eric V., San Francisco

SELECTIONS OF MERIT
(in alphabetical order)



Mission Delores-
sweat of natives
in her walls

Robin Beshers / USA

at the foot of this hill
eleven thousand buried --
crickets singing

Kurt Brobeck / USA

Trial by fire-
a live oak by the burned bridge
needs a new name

Karin Bugge / USA

Food for a Korean prince
Laid out colour by colour...
In broken bowls

Tito / Japan

from duty, a one day refugee-
into an ancient maze
scented with early autumn

Mari Kawaguchi / Japan

deep in the mountains
scent of the ocean
in reclaimed wood

John Merryfield / USA

An old woman
walks with us,
suntanned and lost-
September labyrinth

Keiko Yurugi / Japan

snow falling
without sound
our lives lived
most in our minds

Upstream a short distance from town is, or was, I should say, a working grain terminal and elevator, not exactly a harbor, perhaps most notable for its proximity to the railroad if anything. The building remains, although now it's an historic site.
Amidst the dirty concrete pilings beneath, we would fish for carp with bits of canned corn while rusty barges gradually subsided under loads of boxcar grain, smoke from pilfered cigarettes mingling with the odor of turgid water as we planned nefarious boyhood schemes.
The train tracks remain, although the riverfront has been subject to a decades long urban renewal, now surrounded by four-story apartments and condos. A far cry from the "old Levee" and degraded mansions-cum-ghetto rooming houses we feral house monkeys would terrorize.
If I close my eyes I can remember the sounds: six inch thick hemp rope slithering around massive steel pylons, a splash in murky ooze, the death throes of massacred carp, mouths agape and eyes blank, the clank and crash of breaking bottles disturbing the hiss of tons of pouring grain, jovial cursing of deeply tanned deckhands and the POP of rock salt fired from a .410 gauge shotgun by a drunken, angry train conductor-the crush of feet in flight, torn high-top sneakers scrambling across class 5 stone, our ragged panting...our laughter.

grain, steel and coal
russian hemp grown wild
along the tracks