that ghost called dawn

all the receding windows

have red curtains

 all these seeds of love

churning away in my heart

they don’t half hurt

 every plan

brings the expectation

of disappointment 

 frozen tears

a pandemic of weddings

torn asunder

 the held breath

of yesterday’s pressed flower

yesterday

 where the trains passed 

before they scrapped them away

no rails remain

 coffee and cake

deciding on the day’s walk

the sun arrives

 strings

reading an obituary 

with closed eyes

 through the last leaves

sunlight patting my eyelids

there there now

 after the storm 

sky the colour of blushes

fences to mend

 sunbeams

in the parlance of difference

these tongues

 autumn sunlight

the whole room is shimmering

the sun cat sleeps on

 cobblestones

in the sweeping easterlies

i tighten my robe

 before

waiting for the answer

wait for the question

are you 

the answer 

or the question 

is the answer 

to the question 

another question 

 hiding away

in the silence of haiku

i know!   i know!

hidden away 

in the silence of haiku

i know i am

hidden away 

in the silence of haiku

i am i know

you know i am

i am you know

etc. etc. etc.

 walking the ridge 

not preferring either side

i walk on

 in the window

watching myself

drinking tea

 uncoupling 

the sky from the ocean

a breaking storm

 under a rook’s chaff

a lone buzzard threads its way

through castle woods

 in my cup

the moon is a cold drink

warming on the fire

 at dawn

the caged bird flies across

this fire

 at dawn

eating my midnight words 

with relish

 the man

with a book on his face

has rich dreams

 on a park bench 

the man with words in his head

feeds the pigeons

 happiness 

a childhood of cold

fires me

 a child in the snow

under a street light’s glow

is somewhere else

 ‘he died’

my father used to say

then he did 

 every morning

a different shadow

swims across the wall

 an explosion of pigeons from the castle 

 now can you tell me

where the ends of the earth

end of my question

 early morning swim

coming back across the bay

the sun on my face

 falling lightly ~                           ~ a snow wind

~ in the rising of ~

 all the lamps of dusk

cold as the outdoors is blue

snow forecast

 plinking

sitting in the reign

of a word

 then the lights 

picked by every corner’s

assignation 

 cowboy film

grandpa ~ which side is ours

memories 

 listen - look 

in mid-autumn night’s stream

otter ripples

 home late 

the child takes the garden way

silently praying

 blizzards

accept all of the cookies 

forecast

 november drizzle 

as the sky gets lighter 

it gets heavier 

 in every photo

telephone lines and contrails

post modernism

 the horse

that was standing there

is still there

 in the reflection 

of the wind in the washing

a leaf is falling

 looking for something 

that will last you for ever

try today

 in the minka 

a fire extinguisher 

is lachrymose 

 the wound

opened an understanding 

then closed again

 waiting 

for the first snowflake

the last leaf 

 november 

is that the last butterfly

or this one

 a big hermitage

or in a small hermitage 

we are still alone

 oxymorons 

they come in their uniforms

to say no more wars

but who believes in cliché

who is dying to know

 you and the truth

a slippery relationship 

believe me

 wave after wave

rising upon the wild sea

my little boat

 bleary 

my cat is washing

this morning

 this bullet

phasing down the impact

a slower death

 bamboo

a hard wind rattling

deep inside

 haydn morning

in tune with my sleeping cat

smoothly

 this autumn cigar

russet rolled on summer’s thigh

garden fires

 flotsam

leaving all my thoughts

on the timeline 

 the sea

a restless communion 

with the child in me

 not a sound

not a bird

not the sea 

 acclimatise

so we are to die is cast

anon anon 

 one blossom

and we ask of no one 

why this beauty

 falling

into a bed of emojis 

forty winks 😉

 spuds we called them

pulled over the wooden mushroom 

past darning

 autumn in

spinning clichés on the wind

leaves us 

 bump bump

the school children arrive

in the rain

 pointing

at the last seven leaves

crooked fingers

 short wind

chop it down!! chop it down!!

leaves on neighbour’s lawn

 approaching storm

black boats are riding their chains

the town fast asleep

 shortening days

lonely face in the bole hole

a squirrel dying

 sometimes 

i just need a temple bell

ending a long path

 those moments

when only you understand 

what cannot be said

 under a rainbow

a hawk mobbing a buzzard

silent heathers 

 soft willingness

sometimes we see forever

and never lose it

 the sea

its anger barely concealed

careful i whisper

 another dawn

and the potted plant weeps

we didn’t plan it

always

whatever the weather

a small flower  

every morning 

the caged bird’s shadow 

flies across the wall

 the red artist

after painting the dawn

then what

 soon

there will be no future

for the past

 constantly ~ in search for the silence of saying

 rising wind now

the reflection of the washing

in squally showers

pictorial senryu

 

 the maybe

or the maybe not

of a November washing line

 frost

the cat stays out

two whole minutes

 ripples

a leaf falling on a fish 

silence

from the branch

when many fruit are picked

what remains for us 

 poem and paper

black backed white bellied

an eel   an eel

 every year

we seem to meet like this

in the falling days

 at the worlds end

the priests wear funny clothes 

we are so sad

 washing day

the skies grow darker

year’s end

 welsh chip shop 

salt n vinegar?

tweet now?

haiku for COP26

 global heating

greenhouses full of flowers

to warm our graves

in death’s fashion

the protesters’ finery

refinery 

COP26

archbishops and princes

lecture the people

carbon dioxide 

don’t hold your breath

in the forest

overpopulation 

that’s what they all said

about them

a foresight

we’ll all be dead long before

we are

shockingly hot 

growing pumpkin lanterns

for halloween 

trying not to be

cutting the cut’s shortcuts

on a rising tide

it’s not me or you

but them there over there

don’t they understand