Footsteps

footsteps, they tap my mind
footsteps, on the grooves
inches of sounds, snowflakes
bundles of drizzles, yesterdays

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Monday morning haiku

No 2 of 7 in the Jemverse ‘Haikuweek’ series

Monday morning comes
Awakened to hot coffee
Its fragrance lifts me

To the resting day

1 of 7 in the Jemverse ‘Haikuweek’ series

To the resting day
I relinquish everything
My soul is refreshed

Sparrows

sparrows; wore my feelings
in echoes, squeaked my reason
they robbed scraps of my heart
into grey valleys of time

Fires

Fires, they blew sirens
Stones, uncreased in prayer
Fences, in unfolded black
Leaves, trace crude airs

Particularly Sunday

Don’t have a problem
with most days
They fly by when I’m busy
though sometimes
when there isn’t time
I might get in a tizzy

Of rust and gold

And to these days
when all I hold
is flecked with rust
or painted gold
I know which of
these I prefer
So to the gold
I will defer

Timeless String

hands wrung, long pauses

meditate on a timeless string

creased legs, woven fates

Haves and Have Nots

beaks, nudge time off cliffs
into arms, the skies made
roots, roll ambitions into hearts
for desires, the coats hide

Sleep II

I’m working on the premise
that something soon will change
and when I’m least expecting it
A move to rearrange
will catch me by surprise one day
and the dove-cote doors will close
cocooning me in slumber
from my head down to my toes

What Saturdays are for

Brunch on a Saturday
Fried eggs and bacon
Flat white on the side
if I’m not mistaken

Pages

memories shrill, floated violins
floated her words, oysters still
doors proud, on a half-lit path

WORDS OF WISDOM FROM MARY OLIVER

By Charles Robert Lindholm

“The Most Regretful People On Earth Are Those Who Felt The Call To Creative Work, Who Felt Their Own Creative Power Restive And Uprising, And Gave To It Neither Power Nor Time.”
– Mary Oliver

Tri-Tanka III (light)

Yes, it is morning
But time clings to night time still
and my pen falters
Caught between a moment there
the clarity hides behind

Moments of sublime

I went walking on a hilltop
though I wasn’t really there
And then I was beside the sea
with toes in water bare

I went climbing on a mountain
though it was I think a dream
As really I was looking back
at places I had been

Basil

Sir Basil Fawlty lived a life
as full as life can be
For almost eighteen years
he was within our family

A little border terrier cross
he was peace personified
Hardly ever growling
until the day he died

Breathe

I saw the end of the tunnel
It shouted my name
So I ran to the light
and found freedom again

And breathing in deep
that heavenly air
I shouted out loud
and laughed without care

Time

yellow in swirl, whisper in blue
when silence wears new folds
eyes in green, row over stars
flash a dream for the orange

The dance, the drum

Sometimes when no one is watching
I will dance around my name
with a loud drum always banging
which never sound the same
Yes, it’s always rhythmic
but the pattern’s one of change
Its signature and syntax
quite often rearranged

Water rings spreading

Water rings spreading
wider they grow
at the fall of a pebble
after a throw

White

In white there’s essence of the new
January starts the year afresh
As we from hibernation
awaken from our winter rest

Stripes

stripes, lay thoughts
creases as sands wear
stripes, wave memories
elastic as mountains dare

A Wish Not to Change

let me nail this color in my eyes
till every color breathes in it
let me read this darkness
till every light sprouts forth
let me stay on this ground
till it becomes my world

Pigeons

twenty and three pigeons
on arms of uncertain branches
had no arms to stop the doubt
browless in wit, glum in gossip

Ends

wispy memories, swoop raw and deep
claws of gravity, spin lines in blood
love in moonshine gay on its old paw
a planet of nights, on bones I know not
ends I hold, carry lines raw and deep
too cold for knots, so far for thoughts

image: etsy.com

Taking a break

Mid-December is here
We’re winding down fast
Christmas it seems
it with us at last
Just a few days to go
and all of them manic
as colleagues and projects
go into a panic
But the end of the week
slows down quite a bit
so everyone here
can get used to it

Twenty Nineteen

I have confidence that
now the year end is here
That twenty eighteen
will end with good cheer
For it’s swiftly flown past
and been full to the brim
with all of the memories
contained here within

Of seagulls and seasons

Throughout the year the seagulls
as seasons come and go
are always out there for me
be it sunshine, rain or snow

In the winter and the autumn
In the Springtime when it’s green
In the summer when it’s nice and warm
There are seagulls I’ll have seen