I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

4 April 2009

Yes, it’s autumn: haiku for March 2009


Her bright quick young voice
makes me feel slow and heavy.
The day goes to dusk.


In response to a haiku series criticising ‘witches’ who charge a fee to find your soul-mate:

You never need pay
to discover a soul-mate.
Fate will unite you!

Real witches harm none,
nor do we manipulate.
We are the healers.


Step in the shower,
turn up the hot tap, higher.
Yes, it's autumn.


Wind, rain and loud sea.
The edges of the cyclone
graze us in passing.


Cyclone, blown offshore,
has left us a reminder:
the tide mark’s higher.


Deleted profiles.
Red crosses litter my lists.
There were no goodbyes.

(You probably have to be familiar with MySpace to get this one.)


Tracks along the beach –
big dog, little dog, seagull,
bare feet, sneakers, me.
I meet myself coming back.
The rising tide creeps closer.


Autumn on the Tweed.
What could be more beautiful?
Each day I give thanks.


The tide thunders in
just before darkness descends,
nearly catches me.


(for Bette)

A line of bright bulbs
drenches the porch in fragrance,
their colours singing.


Late March, cooler nights,
the doona's back on the bed.
We both sleep soundly.


He gathers no moss,
collects flowers as haiku:
Takke Rollingstone.


The tide’s on the turn.
Six years close to the ocean;
now, how much longer?

The light changes: blue-green-grey,
white-edged, waves mirrored by clouds.

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