landscape 

the children know every inch

of an inch

 unstoppable 

the emptying of a rock pool

summer is over

 the bitch summer

is no longer on heat

black clouds gathering

 here and there

slowly the periwinkles 

are waiting

 one haiku

so many readers

of the moon

 satiated

a cat is the epitome

of transcendence 

 summer

no longer a promise

but a pretence 

 strange land

the same sun rises again

but how do i know

 spit them out

they’ll find the soil

autumn’s cat has a white tail 

a leaf meets its shadow

a line

or two

a singular poet

says no one understands me

thank for choosing today

your order number is

scanning the barcodes

on the coffins’ bury by date

when all is said and done

a minute of silence

arguing

about a Möbius curve

the cat is there

i am here

 the cat autumn has a white tail 

 on a wet morning

flowers bowing and bowing

we all seem to know

 a kite

pulling the little girl 

with ponytails

 yesterday’s fly

falling from the spider’s web

onto my plate

 sunset spider

sliding down a shadow

last supper

 a child

ten thousand verses and still

an unfinished poem

 suddenly 

suburbia is on fire

august sunset

 every day

i walk to the sea to swim

one day i will stay

 writing slowly

as we near the cataract 

there is no froth

 outside the dentist

gaps in the autumn trees

the numbing of time

 whistling duel

we agree to disagree

the robin and i 

 we live our lives

around an effluent tube

savoury morsel

 brambles

moving the footpath 

to the left

 hold this

you will carry my tomorrows

soon

 here we are again

watching the windfall apples

counting down the days

 the pensioner 

drawing on the bank of days

diminishing returns

 collection plate

he put in a farthing

so that they would know

 white horses 

black seaweed

white knuckles

 a white butterfly 

on a white convolvulus

a child’s white coffin

 writing haiku

all the atoms of my being

me

 death’s last flight

ten thousand snowflakes

falling asleep

 enamel tea pot

inside of the cold lid

yesterday’s tears

 a new follower

the door opens a bit more

please do come in

 fading photograph 

he’s playing his violin

was it a sad song

 water runs

over the temples rocks

moss

 on the west wind

the fragrance of star jasmine 

fading away

 leaves falling

the fairground lights come on

candyfloss 

white step

a greenbottle lands

shimmering heat

 

 there it goes again

the angst of a long summer

in that one song 

 upon the west wind

seagulls are dandelions

remembering summer

 builders 

repairing the morning’s 

solitude

 i am so sorry

i cannot stop the rain 

pussy cat

 two walking talking

always to greet the west wind

for that is the point

 kerrr plunk

apples on the glasshouse roof

not even a breeze

 supermarket aisles

the topography 

of consumerism 

 ‪in the morning mist‬

‪the sunlight and the moonlight ‬

‪one thought ‬

 hot night 

motorbike motorbike 

barks the dog

 one after one

where are they all going

these crows

 hottest day

through the lifeless washing

a cabbage white 

 chopping apples

the lobelia sings the blues

a bee hums along

 never a poet

having not read the poets

writes a poem

 the sultry progress 

of a feathered contrail

looking for a breeze

 to a child 

the future can be planned

for a golden oldie

the future is a request

a very polite request

 susan met susan 

reflecting on the past

oystermouth castle

 red silk kimono 

slipped for a dawn bay’s swim

 at high tide

 a child

leaving a knowing remark

chalking it up

 at the street corner

the world in a rain puddle

near the crossover 

 eighth month

eight figs 

in a blue bowl

 sandy knees

beetroot sandwiches 

burnt shoulders

 in full sail

slowly across a white fence

on a hot day

 ‪shrines‬

‪finding where we left ourselves‬

‪rocks are hardly soft‬

 cracking

the croak of drought

dry pond

 two butterflies 

dancing by the rotary line

went over the hedge

 a jet black rook

is preening up the dawn

in the tree opposite

 the world seems to end

every time that we make love

here is tomorrow

 dry pond

the croak of drought

cracking

 like grass seeds

trapped in a cobweb

our last summer

 ‪dawn’s clock is slowing‬

‪on the sundial of trees‬

‪the ripening of days‬

 in the cobwebs

hanging hot on summer

grass mowings

wispy clouds

the hubbub of beached voices 

multicoloured 

 the esplanade

such a posh name to take 

for an evening walk

 ‪we are dying in times when disinterest died‬

 a tissue

hiding in my pocket

bless you

 the rooks call

wire wire wire

we here

 dry pond

the croaking

of drought

 risk of thunderstorms 

is what the weatherman said 

a lot like summer

it’s all over his chart

the turning over days

 Oppenheimer 

reading my pebble poem

a grasshopper 

 reading her haiku

then re-reading her haiku

i receive her gift

 this book of haiku

sad at getting to the end

i start again

 dawn sunlight

falling gently from the trees

birdsong

 it is not

is an oxymoron 

is it not

waving goodbye 

i get that sinking feeling

all at sea again

migrating birds 

flying out to sea

in waves

moon now moon

how the clouds rush past

the lighthouse

so many pebbles

on a beach of the world

in the milky way 

my milky way 

pouring away coffee dregs

spiral galaxies

shadows dancing

lightening the monotony

of a dark wall

a satisfied child

has finished a first painting

wet behind the ears

 ‪having never‬

‪seen that temple bell‬

‪it rings hollow ‬

the monotony 

of a drive pressure washer

hot summer day 

 hot day 

the cats in the monastery 

are in their cells

 a neighbour passes

the electric shock of a reflection

from the risen sun 

 mottling of memory 

light of an internal eye

harvest moon

 slowly

from a great height

pouring tea

 sport? sport!

soon we will be competing 

for survival

 ‪in the pullback‬

‪of a beached wave‬

‪a comet ‬

 ‪the stuttering surf‬

‪rolling past the lighthouse‬

‪where have the years gone‬

 reddening clouds

under a pale blue sky 

the cat gallops

 ‪another death ‬

‪the curtains are drawn‬

‪for two weeks ‬

 birthday

the one day i guarantee

we were together

 deep summer

slipping down the dusty path

to the sea

 ‪the blood oozes‬

‪slowly over the green earth‬

‪a molten furnace‬

 not now 

i’m cooking cakes

your toast is going cold

saturday night 

and sunday morning 

i’ve clocked you in 

 third mug of tea

three sips write three haiku

on a plum morning

feasting long

on the warm plums of morning

wasp days

a slow morning bee 

is harvesting the night

moon dew warming 

so many warm plums

the wasps are feasting long

backs to the sun

 propaganda 

i won’t read your newspaper 

if you don’t read mine

 ‪singularity‬

‪deep in the hearts of men‬

‪anther bomb is ticking‬

 ‪if i could paint ‬

‪morning mist or pigeons call‬

‪i would rest my brush‬

 ‪down south‬

‪the open mouths‬

‪of panting rooks ‬

 dust lies still

the vase has moved an inch

on the black table

 all the fried egg suns

a sizzling summer longing

derek’s weather chart

heather summer

hail fellow well met

autumn 

 ‪the same grey clouds‬

‪the rain goes on and on‬

‪nothing changes‬

 4am

our neighbour’s dog

fetches insomnia 

 ‪Dupuytren’s contracture‬

‪the gnarled little fingers‬

‪caress the bell curve‬

 ‪running my fingers‬

‪over chiselled graffiti ‬

‪a hand falls on mine‬

the stone pagoda 

my garden slips back in time

imitation game 

 that’s all it is

a bloody algorithm 

that no one asked for

victoria plums

freshly picked tomatoes

late in the day

it is mid morning 

bent ladies with heavy bags

dragging their shadows

 a wise man said 

do not worry it will go 

and then he went

 twitter is like

talking to an extractor fan

an odd fly rattles

 scan reading

a book on climate change 

nearing the end

 letting the sea down

the pier hair grips the tide’s 

unruly waves

 tap tap tap

a new roof goes on

in the rain

 wet day

counting the cat’s paw prints

rushing in

 dark this morning

the pagoda in the trees

awake or asleep

 the tide is turning 

the weather is turning 

time to go

 blackberries

above a full tide

turning

 ‪you only live twice‬

‪once when you dive in‬

‪once when you come out‬

 after painting

against my better judgement 

i decide to swim

 high summer

the decadence of brie

in a hot garden

haydn

so many morning paths

heady with light