I must leave this
wilderness of thought
grass growing, head cracking
splintering forth,
a country is burning
the dead are buried long
ago, they will resurrect
only at the raucous bark
of a dog. I haven’t travelled enough to know
that the writing on the wall
is only a slur to all actions.
Shoot them out and twist
history into contorted truths.
This springtime reminds
of autumn’s wind
and decadent roads
will smell the tar once again
as roads need to be repaired
in this season only
with the brush of the rains
lacing them with wetness, muddy. I stand or walk
precariously as the roads
are prepared once again for torrid rains, the monsoon’s blues, and the fang-bearing winds.
In this hill town I breathe freely. Rustic.
reading the tea leaves
a difficult future
for the mayfly
More at https://twitter.com/Haikuintraining.
After Niagara
there was the dispersal,
the slower spread,
the gentling over stones,
the river flushing
to the size
of a street,
a house,
a room,
to cotton tumbling
in clear water,
to a kettle singing,
to the turbulence
of tears.
Do not let them reclaim you backwards
with their clever tricks and morbid traps,
For it is not really relevant anymore,
merely candy floss ghosts of yesteryear.
Tuck the nice memories safely up in bed,
shoo the nasty, negative ones away,
wash your hands of past unpleasantness.
Open up the attic window of your mind
and let a through-breeze spring-clean
your dusty first edition leather-bound soul.
Look back only at moments of affection,
prize-winning smiles and friendly hearts,
The times you lived so full that you
almost burst open carving your initials
into the eternal bark of youth’s wonderment.
Be kind and gentle with your memories,
select and file the brilliant ones up front.
Let the other kind drift away from you
upon the stream of experiences no longer
needed and lessons well and truly learnt.
More at http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.
Brake bellow and roll
on the deadlight harmony
on the packed tight shift
under your drifting apartment ceiling
pack home and leave
but before you go take this:
my beat.
More at http://www.robindunn.com.
lilies in bloom
thinking of you
at Christmas time
More at https://twitter.com/Haikuintraining.
She likes swans
and ballerina feet shuffling.
The bend of a Welsh harp
(The actual musical ability is irrelevant!)
The circumference of a peach
not an apple nor an orange.
The sound the word ‘Pastel’ makes
whilst giggling through
gulps of fizzy lemonade.
Old heavy brass door knockers
(Yes, that’s the very ones!)
Clouds do nowt for her but frown.
Frogs are far better than Prince’s.
A 2pm afternoon alone,
with winter sunshine
sweeping underhandedly
through the kitchen window,
Is the perfect destination
for that new colour
she’s been secretly creating… sssh!
More at http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.
Loneliness in evenings, after long fruitless waiting
For cherished visitors, bites and beats and breaks
The spirit to have prepared in great ways to greet
People whose laughter fills your room, emptying it
Of all dullness that keeps gathering in busy times
When out of work, as much as you may want to move
More and more, you find heaps of work raising their heads
Like mountains insurmountable in the regular fashion
To which you are so naturally tied without ever realising
You could definitely have seen them coming had you, but
For your business, just given them a short notice for your
Eager and desperate waiting to spend time in their
Company in all its charm and splendour and magnificent aura.