Thursday, December 02, 2010

I never said
to you
the song of a bird
in a bitter wind

Blithe Spirit Vol.10 No.4, December 2000
The Tanka Anthology. Edited by Michael McClintock. Red Moon Press. 2003

To a bird I hope is still singing.

Wednesday, December 01, 2010

on waves
the ebb and flow
of the sea that joins
your island to mine

Presence #15 September 2001

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

cold rain
the greengrocer stacks cabbages
on cabbages

Snapshots #10 2004

Monday, November 29, 2010

grey day
the only bright spot
a red traffic light

Blithe Spirit Vol.16 No.2 June 2006
Miso Soup's gone off the boil lately. I'm thinking of changing the recipe. For a while at least I'm going to post some golden oldies (previously published in various places) rather than anything new. I'll try to pick ones that fit the current mood. Let's see how that goes.

Tuesday, September 07, 2010

a window frames
the whole free world
in one white gull

Thursday, August 05, 2010

running water
just deep enough
to carry sunshine
down the stream

a rivulet of water
from wet hair
finds a graceful path
over the body

in the evening
on the kitchen floor
stepping in water
from the morning's rain

in the darkness
the inky depth
of red wine
only in its taste

Sunday, July 11, 2010

2am conversation in the street below the lamplight

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

before the sun sets
gull chicks
try their wings

Thursday, June 24, 2010

before we were born
perhaps, we were offered
a choice of lives
and chose our own
over all others

Thursday, June 17, 2010

among the roses
unexpectedly blue -

Monday, May 24, 2010

siesta -
a curtain of daisy chains
hangs from a low branch

Friday, May 14, 2010

the Prime Minister's words

Sunday, March 21, 2010

doing nothing

Saturday, March 20, 2010

guilty at having
forgotten to feed
the baby
I realise it's alright
it's just a doll

Friday, March 12, 2010

I have to go soon. I need to fetch an important package that I left behind. Time is getting short. There are people coming. Some of them have already arrived, but I'm still putting it off. It's not far, but the last time I came up that way I walked into a white fog. It was so dense I could barely see the ground. All I could do was force myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other, following my instinct on where the right path was, until I came out of it. The sky is now a bright, clear blue but I have a cold dread of walking into the fog again on that path. I have to go soon.

looking back on it
from a distance
the fog bank
as impenetrable from outside
as from within

Monday, March 01, 2010

as the sky shades
deeper and deeper blue
tiny lights
in the windows
of an incoming plane

Friday, February 19, 2010

sunlight on glass
the thin, high whistle
of a bird

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

eye of the storm
I find myself romantically
while all around me
are being ship-wrecked

Saturday, February 13, 2010

winter stars
half-way up the tower block
a light flickers

Friday, February 12, 2010

recession deepens -
a flurry of statistics
on the morning news

Monday, January 25, 2010

almost understanding
what the trees are writing
across the evening sky

Monday, January 11, 2010

bitter cold
the path that used to be
safe and familiar
threatens to bring me down
with every step