Joseph P. Wechselberger
Born 1946 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania USA
Living in Browns Mills, New Jersey USA
Joseph has been retired since March 2007. He began writing haiku in 2018 and is member of the Haiku Society of America. His work has been Touchstone nominated in 2021 and 2022 and has appeared in 33 haiku journals, Haiku 2022, and jar of rain: The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku 2020.
jazz singer
a gardenia
like Billie
others' lives
through lighted windows
walking the dog
a relic from the war ...
his steel-plated Bible
the bullet hit
that scratchy sound a record makes
before the song starts ...
burial day
park winds
the Mary Poppins' flight
of a mime
pinning laundry
to the clothesline
mother's silhouette
Time Haiku 58, August 2023
more news of the war ...
he reads Dickens
in the rain
speed dating
the changing colors
of her mood ring
al fresco dining
a fly's meandering flight
table to table
childhood
the worn spot in the grass
under the swing
Highly Commended, H. Gene Murtha Memorial Senryu Contest 2023 Edition
nursing home
photos of her days
as a Playboy bunny
new man in her life ...
she consults a daisy
petal by petal
making strudel
grandma rolls the dough
in her native tongue
2 a.m. reading a neighborhood dog sleepless too
the boutonniere taken
from the table's vase
blind date
stirring morning coffee
with her tarnished favorite spoon
eldercare
as if
he never existed
the baby's unmarked grave
her old music box ...
she hums the tune
it used to play
lilies and yellow roses ...
no one discusses
his suicide
foreclosure
the familiar imperfections
in the window glass
Modern Haiku 55.3, Autumn 2024
deconstructing
the jigsaw puzzle
vacation's end
the old neighborhood
so many things
aren't
Mother's wake
her special occasion dress
finally worn
Prune Juice 29, November 2019
bickering
a couple picks flowers
from their salads
emergency room
a paperback
with a broken spine
after Dad's death
his chair holds
his shape
under stars our sleeping bags touching
Frogpond 44.2, Winter 2021
approaching storm sometimes it's kinder to lie
without lights the Milky Way
First Holy Communion
gum
on the sole of a shoe
leaving the confessional
a boy
picking his nose
sunset
the movement of newborn pups
in the sack
the sweet sound of Coltrane’s sax
sharpening
a whittling knife
Modern Haiku 52.3, Autumn 2021
yard sale—
buckle rash
on an old fender
Visiting the Wind: Haiku Society of America Members' Anthology 2021, Haiku Society of America
among his things
routes marked
on an old road map
Kingfisher 4, November 2021
the steady click of Newton's cradle pop quiz
curling into the bowl the shadow then the peel
Whiptail Journal 1, November 2021
family funeral
we share our versions
of the same story
the sad look
in his old dog's eyes
panhandler
a flash of sun
off her guitar
street busker
still warm in the cans
the village milk wagon
making its rounds
MahMight Haiku Journal, November 27, 2021
a poem copied
in Dad's tight cursive ...
we never discussed the war
Hedgerow: a journal of small poems 137, January 2022
chalk drawings
the mailman jumps over
her rainbow
Cold Moon Journal, June 8, 2022
family tree—
the stories I heard
around kitchen tables
Prune Juice 37, July 2022
Prune Juice 37
what he wants
to be when grown
the length of my shadow
childless
and the only child of an only child ...
the brief lives of mayflies
Cold Moon Journal, September 13, 2022