Friday, 15 December 2017

cows’ tails



cows’ tails
hanging idly
autumn chill

first published in The Heron’s Nest, December 2017



all the wealth
that he left
golden leaves

first published in Tinywords, December 2017



winter rasp
in a crow’s caw
death metal

previously unpublished


Friday, 8 December 2017

falling snow



falling snow
her deep
husky whisper


first published in The Heron’s Nest

republished in The Wonder Code: Discover the Way of Haiku and See the World with New Eyes, Girasole Press, Chappaqua NY, 2017, ed. Scott Mason




a walk with father
the stream slowing down
near the mouth


first published in The Heron’s Nest

republished in They Gave Us Life: Celebrating Mothers, Fathers & Others in Haiku, Middle Island Press, 2017, ed. Robert Epstein


Friday, 1 December 2017

falling into



falling into
the warm cup of her hands
first snowflakes

first published in Presence, November 2017



An accidental meeting

How is he, how am I, how are others. The brain is a machine for comparing. He waited for a break in the conversation to start talking about himself. Boring as a scenario of a thriller. It smelled of an old crime story and he was decaying. More bacteria in the mouth than on the toilet seat of a long-distance train. Komodo dragons kill not with teeth but saliva. Genuinely moved, couldn’t get a word out, only tears. The news fell on him like a drunk chimney sweep from the roof. Finally a touch of black humor. Broken spine, wheelchair from the waist down.

the daguerreotype
of my memory
deserted streets

first published in Presence, November 2017


Thursday, 16 November 2017

washing make-up



washing make-up
from the old trees
November rain

previously unpublished



through the cracks
in the veneer
raw flesh

first published in Bones, November 2017



delivery
on a winter night
your steaming calf

first published in Bones, November 2017


Friday, 3 November 2017

lovers‘ grave



lovers‘ grave
bones rubbing
against bones

previously unpublished



the loose hair
of an old willow
autumn wind

first published in Modern Haiku, autumn 2017



listening to
Les Feuilles Mortes
post-coital tristesse

previously unpublished


Friday, 20 October 2017

towards light



towards light
the stretched necks
of flying swans

first published in Chrysanthemum, October 2017



the train door opens
for the last passenger
autumn night

first published in Chrysanthemum, October 2017



Nothing Special

She didn’t do anything special. Made love to a husband she didn’t love. Brought up children who didn’t listen. Went to work she didn’t like. Met friends she had nothing in common with. Watched television which irritated her. Read books which bored her. Professed religion she didn’t believe in.

dead
or alive
blindworm in the sun

first published in Chrysanthemum, October 2017


Friday, 13 October 2017

autumn drizzle



autumn drizzle
the saddened idol
of the joy of life

previously unpublished



the gods
yawning with boredom
autumn wind

previously unpublished



the plaintive cry
of laughing seagulls
autumn begins

previously unpublished