Saturday, December 7, 2013

Biding Time, selected poems by: h. gene murtha

BIDING TIME, selected poems by:  H. Gene Murtha

Biding Times, is a collection of poetry: haiku, senryu, tanka and haibun.  A collection  compiled between 2001 and 2013.  Over 115 poems within the perfect bound covers.  This is a limited first run, accompanied by an audio CD.  Orders are being accepted now, through PayPal, account number:  gmu9240555 (at) yahoo (dot) com
No spaces (gmu9240555@yahoo.com).   Prices are for the book and CD.  $15.00 within the USA.  $17.00 Canada and Mexico.  $19.00 Overseas, to reserve your copy.  If you would rather send a Money Order, that is fine just contact me for the information 
Biding Time will hit the streets June,  2014.


biding time
spit drips down
the thistle



Saturday, January 28, 2012

Haiku News

If anyone is in the Philadelphia, Camden, NJ. area, March, Saturday, March 3, 2012.
Tom Painting will be presenting a haiku workshop from 10:00 a.m to 3:00 p.m. at
the Sacred Heart Church cafeteria, 1739 Ferry Ave., Camden, NJ 08104.
Fees: $10.00 per person, which includes lunch. Anyone who plans to attend, and
would like to have their work considered for workshop, submit up to 3 haiku by
February 16, 2012 to Michele L. Robinson: robinson(dot)m(dot)l(at)comcast(dot)net
Register by February 16, 2012. Please send a $10.00 check with contact information
to: Mary Heron, 824 Widener Road, Elkins Park, PA. 19027.
Questions, email Mary H. Heron at:
mhheron(at)verizon(dot)net
After the workshop, the NVHA is offering a tour of the Waterfront South Arts District.
Note: donations are always welcome. Annual Membership is $10.00 per year, Lifetime
Membership is $50.00, a onetime fee.

Monday, July 18, 2011

for the Nick Virgilio Haiku Assoc.

originally written during the Virgilio Memorial Reading, June 2006, & a tanka:

memorial reading:
in between Walt Whitman
and Virgilio
an egret, steadfast--
pure white & naked

Monday, April 11, 2011

tanka

we lean
into one another's
broken parts
a pair of thrush
rebuild their nest


*for Inky




alone
gazing out upon
the breakwater
everything I've lost
everything I've birthed




sharing love
with another child
I count
the different shapes
of each snowflake





an iris
trapped in a vase
like love
there are things
we never wanted




knapsack
and cane pole
I search
the pond's edge
for an answer




a hopi carves
the kachina from cottonwood
my roots too
are plucked like shavings
from the whittler's knife



note: the Hopi are an south western Native American Tribe, a Kachina is a doll.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Barry George, Wrecking Ball & other Urban Haiku

**NEW

Dear fellow haiku poets & friends:

I am proud to announce the publication of my chapbook; Wrecking Ball & other Urban Haiku from Accents Publishing. A haiku chronicle of the seasons in my home city, Philadelphia, it collects poems that have appeared in haiku journal in recent years, with some new poems as well.

Perfect bound, 30 haiku, 30 pages; just $5 dollars. Reviewed in the current edition of Frogpond.

It is available from the publisher Accent Publishing: http://www.accents-publishing.com/, from http://www.amazon.com/. or from me:

Barry George
2011 Chestnut st., #11G
Philadelphia, Pa. 19103

($5 plus $1 shipping & handling, within the USA). Please make Check out to: Barry George.

Saturday, December 26, 2009

when you think

when you think
you've heard it all--
brown thrasher

The Heron's Nest 11:4

Saturday, October 24, 2009

haiku, Acorn # 23, fall 2009

new moon. . .
an old woman speaks
of the emptiness

ancient trail
footprints fade
with the dew

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

haiku

noon whistle--
a candy bar
snaps in two

Megapoets, Issue 4, July 2009



harvest moon
the prayer beads
worn smooth


Acorn 22, Spring 2009

Thursday, July 30, 2009

tanka

brushing off sand
I walk what's left of
the pine dunes
my time here passes by
like the birds overhead

Ribbons 5:2, 2009

Friday, July 10, 2009

Red Moon Press: A New Resonance 6, 2009

If anyone is interested, I have copies available at cost, $10 each, which includes shipping and the poetry of:

Alan Burns, Glenn G. Coats, Susan Constable, Kristen Deming, David Grayson, Andrea Grillo, Paul Hodder, Jorgen Johansson, Eve Luckring, Bob Lucky, Scott Mason, Me [h. gene murtha], Roland Packer, Michele Root-Bernstein, Jeff Stillman, Richard S. Straw, & Tony A. Thompson.

If anyone happens to be a The Heron's Nest fan, I am pleased to tell you that of the 15 haiku of mine that were selected for NR6, 11 haiku were originally published at the Nest 2002 through 2008.

If you are interested, email me "h g murtha @ gmail . com" No Spaces. I do accept PayPal, cash or check, and I will send you the information.

I think that I can count on one finger the number of times that Jim Kacian did not attend the same Haiku Society of America meeting that I have, so, I will not be packing copies of NR6 to any upcoming events. Hey, Jim has a business to run. . .so, I am sure that everyone understands.


Always,

Gene

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Recent haiku

snowed in . . .
fire wraps
around a log

The Heron's Nest v.10:1, March 2008
A New Resonance 6, Red Moon Press 2009


spring —
the pause before
she pulls a sapling

The Heron's Nest v.10:2, June 2008
A New Resonance 6, Red Moon Press 2009


steady drizzle
strand by strand
a robin’s nest

The Heron's Nest vol.10:3, Sept. 2008


morning chill
a child’s shadow
moves thru mine

The Heron's Nest vol.10:4, Dec. 2008
A New Resonace 6, Red Mood Press 2009


starry night . . .
a worn phone number
in the handbook

for Bill, Wm. J. Higginson
The Heron's Nest vol.11:1, March 2009 Memorial section.


originally written:

fresh snow
the things we do
no one speaks of

published as:

fresh snow
the things to do
no one speaks of

Mainichi, Daily Haiku Selection, March 13, 2009


if purple
were my color . . .
twilight snow

The Heron's Nest vol.11:2, June 2009


subway wall. . .
a poem about
butterflies

Asahi Weekly #1871, Sunday, June 7, 2009

Sunday, July 5, 2009

recent tanka

my finger
traces the edge
of her lips
around the curve
a new adventrure

Tanka Splender Award 2008
Take Five, tanka anthology ed. M. Kei, 2009 Met Press

just as
I pull myself from
gutter to curb
all things dear to me
can be found in a swamp


the sound
of a broken bottle swept
across asphalt
like the cry of a child
you have given away

for Katherine Cudney

Ribbons vol. 4:3, 2008

drunk
lying in my
own piss--
from the bedroom
my son's voice

Ribbons vol.4:4, 2008

people change
like the color
of a bunting
I feel at peace
when I'm alone

Sunday morning
reading the obituaries
calling daddy
the same name
Sylvia Plath does

sober
she asks me to
come home
I pierce a badger's claw
then hang it from my ear

Rusty Tea Kettle, vol.1:1, January 2009

Saturday, January 31, 2009

Carole MacRury: In the Company of Crows

_____________________NEWS RELEASE FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: January, 2009 ACCLAIMED POINT ROBERTS POET CAROLE MACRURY PUBLISHES FIRST BOOK ‘In the Company of Crows’ combines haiku, tanka to celebrate life on the northern Washington coast. The first collection of poetry by award-winning poet Carole MacRury, of Point Roberts, Wash. (USA), was released December 15, 2008. In the Company of Crows: HAIKU and TANKA Between the Tides brings together more than 200 haiku, tanka, and poem sequences with 23 hauntingly beautiful sumi-e illustrations created by internationally acclaimed artist Ion Codrescu. The 160-page, soft-cover edition features a foreword by Beverley George, president of the Australian Haiku Society and the editor of Eucalypt, Australia’s first literary journal devoted entirely to tanka. Currently the secretary/treasurer of the Tanka Society of America, MacRury has had her haiku and tanka published in literary journals, anthologies, and online in the U.S., Canada, and overseas, as well as received numerous awards for her work, including the Tanka Splendor Award. “Carole’s gift for vivid imagery links with expressions of human experience and emotion to produce poems that resemble ‘short songs’—the literal translation of the word ‘tanka,’” writes George in her foreword. “This poet can write at the cutting edge of life,” she continues with respect to MacRury’s haiku - “the clarity of her images and the accuracy of her word choices are signatures of a mind that engages with the natural world with eyes wide open and a blend of curiosity and awe.” … “In the Company of Crows is a worthy collection that merits wide readership.” “Over the years, I’ve learned that nothing stays the same; I can’t go back and recreate a moment,” says MacRury. “Haiku and tanka allow me to celebrate the moods and memories evoked by the seasons through special moments that seem imbued with significance,” she says. “Haiku and tanka also have the marvelous ability to transcend cultures, as the human condition becomes recognizable to all of us who share the planet.”Artist Codrescu is a poet and editor in his own right. An illustrator of more than 100 books, whose graphic works grace private and state collections in many countries, he is the founder of the Constantza Haiku Society and the Constantza International Haiku Festival and author of 10 books published in Romania, France, the U.K., and Slovenia. He also was the founder and editor of the highly praised poetry journal Hermitage. Codrescu resides in Constanta, Romania.In the Company of Crows was published by Black Cat Press (BCP), of Eldersburg, Md. (USA). Cathy Drinkwater Better, BCP co-owner—with her husband, Doug Walker—edited and designed the book. An award-winner poet and journalist, and a book author, Better’s work has been published in the U.S., Canada, and abroad since 1969. She works as a newspaper editor and columnist, and a freelance writer. She has authored more than 50 books, including three collections of haiku, a humor collection, and numerous children’s books.In the Company of Crows: HAIKU and TANKA Between the Tides is currently available exclusively through the author. The retail price is $18.00 postage-paid. For media inquiries or to arrange an interview with the author, contact: Carole MacRury at macrury@whidbey.com or Cathy Drinkwater Better (Walker) at Black Cat Press: by e-mail at cbetter@juno.com. For information on ordering In the Company of Crows, contact: Carole MacRury macrury@whidbey.com

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Happy Holiday's Everyone!

To a wonderful & safe holiday & a fruitful 2009, with love, prosperity, & of course muse!

waxwings
exchange rose hips--
Christmas morning





originally published, The Heron's Nest

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Poems of Myself: 10/19/1955-10/19/2055

Directions

Let us walk for awhile. Bring along the pick ax, spade and knapsack hanging in the shed. You will find them on your right just inside the split barn door.

Walk through the trellis in the rear garden, it is the trailhead that leads through the forest. Be careful, there are roots to your left sticking up from the grade from an old pin oak—I don't want you to spill me, well, not yet.

Follow the trail until two paths merge, then stop. Take the pick and break up the hard pan. You will find ribbons of clay and sand. Mix them together with the shovel to create loam.

Add the ashes from the velvet bag that you will find inside the sack, this will improve the soil too. If you feel inclined to say something over my remains, then, that is fine, but it is not important, since you have done enough.

It will be spring soon. Already, you can hear the chickadees.


recycle day
a washed out worm
in the rain puddle


To Whom This May Concern

To whom this may concern:

While I watch the magistrate falter crumbling fields of reveriea halo of blackened clouds float overtures, where once a firefly flickered--Whose children taunt children killing children of Santee and Columbine Whose parents weaken gun control Whose parents leave gun unsupervised and obtainable Whose little girls abort and abandon babiesWhose parent's kill little girls in the name of righteousness,with there red panties and pink lipstick. Who carry picket signs of wordswritten by boredom,parading activists, and singing songs of saintly tunes. And in the melting mindsthat leap from tree to tree, building to building. In a haze of Crack, Angeldustic-ecstasy Where my mind went mad from fermented potato-mash,PCP, Rag, Jazz and Blues--Where blue skies once sailed endless from sea to sea. Shimmy in minds of the pretenders' Tangled in dreams and lovers. Who's shadow know the darkness of these concessions met by the mandate. Who cut trees, cut trees Who kill the ozone, kill the ozone. Who's world has withered, in this desecration abomination, of these the avian ... Who use petroleum base and plastics killing fish animal and man, Whose entre of atmosphere, enter our water, dissolving in our food, and destroys the sperm count of our youth. Whose artifical estrogen will conquer Nations. Yes, this is true! and the in saecula saeculorum of these songs: Birds do not sing for our ears! For whom a disease, monkey's developed,AIDS, have made the hetero shy, and the anus of a gay man sincere. Where Cholera showed in an Ocean City Bay, and What's killing the Brants in Forsythe? Where West-nile is strong enough to kill a horse Whose State sprays for Lyme disease-- Killing fish reptile and birds, Whose carcasses are devoured by raptors Who have endangered the Timber Rattler' Who keep building and building and to my wonderment...Where will we get water when all the Jersey spungs are dry... Am I barking at the moon? Whose moon is leaving the earth's grasp While environmentalist take the Utility dollar Who's consumers sponsor said pay offs'And are the main pollutant and fossil fuel user. Who write opinions on paper and glass, Tagging walls of steal and stone-- That no god would know, nor a poet would write. And to know the deaf ear can hearAnd to know the dumb tongue cans speak, Where they, the blind, need no eyes to see.

haiku

forty-six years
writing my name
yellow in snow

July 4th —
small talk over beer
with a redcoat

morning sun —
fish scales glisten
in the otter scat

shooting star —
father’s ring
slips off my finger

Indian summer
a bee bounces around
in the beer can

cancer ward--
a get-well balloon
in the trash

Berlin Wall
a smooth stone
in my pocket

quiet pond
a stone turning
in my palm

talk of devorce
two starlings
back to back

fishing
where my brother stood —
twilight chill

snowed in . . .
fire wraps
around a log

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Poems for Derek Michael July 9, 1997-

Batteries Not Included

Christmas is such a joke every year: approaching middle-age you'd think that I would read the text of the package before purchasing something and include the correct size batteries for each present. At day break, I rush to get dressed, brush my teeth, put on a baseball cap to hide my bed-hair, hop in my pickup and rush to the local WaWa with a list of all the battery sizes that I need, before our child's face grows long with disappointment.


dim light ...
in her night-stand drawer
a cold vibrator


Dinosaur and Dragon Bones


This weekend is going to be different; my four year old will head the expedition in a quest for dinosaur and dragon bones. Our bellies are full; we're well clothed so we won't be hunting butterflies and birds. We empty the backpack full of cap guns and water pistols, and replace them with small picks, trowel, sifter, basting brush and any useful kitchen utensil we can find.

Just as we break camp, I spot a scarlet tanager and Derek said it was a parrot. We continue down the path until we reach the verge overlooking a deep pit. As we follow the grade adjusting to the terrain, rocks start to slide, unearthing a flat piece of yellow quartz, triangle shaped, with one side notched inward-out, like a canine. Derek convinced me it belongs to a T. rex. The sun is high; sweat stunk-down the hair covering our napes and sideburns, collecting in the blue and white bandannas tied loosely around our necks.

On the way to the ancient forest, we found pitch pine and sassafras saplings. Dug them up. Replanting them, well spaced—for proper growth.

*bedtime story
the child never
stops talking


haiku


the gleam
in a child's eyes—
starlings shift direction


first light
I pretend to shave
my son’s lathered face


morning dew
I trace my son's
___lifeline


tanka


home from work
he asks me: did you
have a drink today?
two arms tighten
around my waist



Contemporary haibun On-line vol.1:3 December 2005, Lynx vol. 23:2 June 2008,
Hermitage 1:1, 2004, The Heron's Nest vol. 5:5 2003, The Heron's Nest vol. 7:1 2005
Hermitage 3, 2006

Note: *the haiku was originally published as:

bedtime story
the child never
stops stalking

Which was a typo on my part within the submission.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Poems for Jacob Ryan

-Jacob Ryan Murtha, stillborn, Memorial Day weekend, May 26, 1996


Miller's Pond


Jacob avoided everything from the start:

All the easy stuff I could have shawn him
from the saw-tooth edge of an alder leaf
.....to casting a lazy fly rod at Miller's.

I never wanted him...perhaps he knew.
Never could see myself as a parent,
.....or felt the need to be a letdown.

While Linda carried him, I was happy for them.
Watching her third finger trace his body
.....squirming in her belly.

After I delivered him, I held him just so
brushing back brown hair from his cold,
limp-still body, and sketched those features
.....that were mine.

When in thought, I find myself on a bank
at Miller's Pond, where mallards dabble,
a hooded merganser dives
.....and not until it surfaces

..........do I breath.


Jacob's Song a lullaby

life's full of joy
baby boy it would be
the nursery was made
by my wife and me

the toys and the cloths
tucked away in his room
baby would play
while in his mother's womb

the day would come
he'd play no more
tears showered our eyes
cascading to the floor

an angel emerged
from this tragedy
I'm sure Jacob watches over
my wife and me


haiku


dawn
caught in a dewdrop—
the empty swing


spring mist—
a mallard paddles
through our stillborn's ashes


Memorial Day—
a layer of dust
cover's the urn


spring rain
a child's ashes
mix with clay


tanka series untitled


dusting
his brass urn
I walk to
the bedroom's far wall
and straighten our photo

dreams of
how I never wanted you
your ashes
sift through my fingers
so many tiny bones

I look
to the constellation
count each star
one by one
then, name you


© 1996-2008 Memorial Day, Golden Swamp Warbler Press, The Heron's Nest, The
Valentine Award Issue of THN, Temps Libre, Mad Poet's Review & Hermitage