a single photon 

from many light years away

enters my eye

 travelling 

the raconteur’s finger waggles

i’ve been there 

 overlapping 

talking the tide in

our ripples

 flying a kite 

feeling the tug of distance

white knuckle ride

 photography 

capturing the moment

it escapes

 mouth open

it says nothing

pass it on

 the old poets

were the modernists

reading

the old poets

to the postmodernists 

 in this storm

the rain bouncing higher

stops me in my tracks

 all aboard

flight of the dandelion 

it’s time

 a wall

lying on my side 

becomes the floor

 itinerant builder

now you see him

now you don’t

 the clouds pointed

but mumbles just sat there

sunrise a head

 in the rain

the lonely sound of a bell

how far it travels

 daggers are drawn

in war a temple bell rings

peace peace peace

 Wales Haiku Journal 

in a little country

the globe spins

 the sea

so many voices 

just saying 

 everything 

there is no way out

but poetry

look over there

look over here

 dawn spreads

over the boat houses

seagulls

 appearing

in the entanglement of minds

a new particulate 

 peninsula end

when there is no further to go

more comes

 seedlings

the international language

of springtime

 mobilisation 

the wheel of history turns

dark days lie ahead

 azalea 

underestimating the fuse

of an explosion

 just this minute

the third cup is pouring

the waiting

 juicy

the way your seeds

spread my lips 

 turning down the corners of the book of life

 the path

to the tide line

under the gorse

 budding

always one step behind

the grim reaper

 shall we

go down to the estuary 

and watch it creep

 sea swim

again the high tide

of determination 

 moths 

to a flame

writing poems

 algae

slipping on the slip

a wet bum

 press button B

to get your childhood back 

hello hello

 floating

a withered thought

upon the waters

 morning sunshine

lifting the cherry blossom

by the pagoda 

 refractory

having a rest from writing

i write a poem

 on the bough wind

how the blossoms fall

it’s snowing!

 nodding

when reading a poem

my neck clicks

 cystoscopy 

air came out of where?

never!

 punctuation 

lowest common

denominator

 reading haiku

descale your coffee machine

says my iPad

 fallen blossoms

no room for tears

fading

 how it is to be

deep in league with the plants

incessant rain

 later in life

what my father used to be

my son is

 hills

have i been or am i going

the distance

 long bay

under long clouds 

the sea

 slow dawn

an enjambment of light

around night’s curtains

 far apart

strolling together

each morning

 cherry blossoms

creating a poem 

in front of me

 wonder 

oft repeated

is wonderful 

 i knew

it was you

pussy cat

 alone

i made a shrine

we said

 uncorked

my imagination runs wild

off road

 the dead had plans

 appearing

at the vanishing point

sunrise

 and licked there

by a sea shore kiss

time sands still 

 on the coast path

wild strawberries are flowering

the tide is turning

 from the clematis

a thousand petals fall

two birds

 an explosion 

of two minds settles it

then peace returns

the duck has flown

water ripples outwards

 ill-timed

the push of the tides

wet feet

 pond life

thumbing the pages

of my childhood 

british insects ~ birds eggs 

underlined with a boy’s joy

 fin de siècle 

this beginning

is like that beginning

when the old dates

became the new dates

 pristine 

beneath the may blossom

dandelions 

 brandy

in the cove of my mind

the spirit of it

 lost 

in a stream of thoughts

thoughts

 as your petals fall

my blossoms are opening

the world turns

 why is it

in the attack of the raptor 

we call for the prey

 always maybe

a little bit further out

the biggest fish

 all day 

dangling on a cobweb

springtime 

 this haiku 

it rings a vague bell

somewhere

 no ~ you’re not dying

dead already on my lips

another lie

 following japan 

cherry blossoms in the mist

where am i 

 suddenly 

the beginning 

of the end

 fallen blossoms

swirling streams of thought

in time’s river

 low water

where has the sea gone

into the mist

 suburbia 

dog shit in a plastic bag

hanging from a tree

 they wrote haiku 

talking of moon viewing

it made them from they

 suburbia 

wood pigeons 

eating lawn seed

 the mind

judge of its own actions

i think

 bustling city

somethings never change

cherry blossoms

 held breath

first one and then another

cherry blossoms

 ownership

the biggest misconception 

of all time

 standing by

the conveyor belt of morning

remembering

 spring bookmarked

opening and closing

my eyes

 ahh pussy cat

we do have our moments

do we not

 complete mystery

how the sea seems to know 

my every mood

 oh gauche 

the amorous wood pigeon

chases back and forth 

 dawn’s sun

a little higher every day

slow dog

not yesterday 

but today he said

dandelions

 magpies

snatching the ducklings

lunch by the pond

 the cat is washing

i am drinking my coffee

sunshine and showers

 same old cat food

same old toast and marmalade

it has stopped raining

above my head

nesting in the clematis 

blackbirds

collecting my thoughts

like bits of straw

 a view 

so unreal that it says

look again

 cherry blossom

long after my eyes have closed

falling asleep

 homeward

hillside corner old houses

quickening pulse

 inflation

the dead are stone cold

mourning

 frosty sunshine

twenty five seconds and

the cat came back in

 torn

from the history books

today’s war

 a sunbeam

sliding down a cobweb

coffee time

 wild garlic

celandine slowly closing

moonrise

 picking daisies 

chasing little butterflies 

we did

 peak blossoms

japan’s dreams are landing

on my lap top