linoleum

that big blue basket chair

childhood memories

 wet day

cleaning the tiles’ grouting

dark energy

 poems in hand 

look at their fingernails

disappointing

 take me back

to being taken aback

my child 

 autumn spider

no pussy cat! no!

let’s all sleep

 nebulae

who will sweep up the star dust

in the nursery

 is that an owl

in the trees across the marsh 

- awake so early !

 at the point

a lighthouse and a bird hide

wind in the grasses

 on the bell at dawn

the first spots of rain winkle

september’s ending

 children

out of their mouths

wonderland

 flickering

in the candle light

thoughts

 my neurone

said to your neurone

synapse

 immovable 

turn the buried boulder

in your mind

 the misty way

that so far beckons

now so irresistible 

 storm swim

the infinite variations 

of dare i 

 daily visitor 

we call him Oliver Twist

nice cat

 another storm

clearing sand from my ears

after a swim

 we took a second ride

on the ghost train in the fair

just to be sure

many have followed

in the footprints of the snow

moon shadows

 stealing

their wish coins from the well

am i not rich?

 the moon inching 

across the temple floor

not moving

 the best poems

are not necessarily 

the best poems 

 the true light is

when you really see darkness

for the first time

 artefacts 

the art of a fact mislaid

time and again

 summer has gone

kicking all the pots over 

the clouds run away

 singing the blues

the bird that isn’t there

skylarking again

 it’s a game we play

i unwrap the ampule

the cat hides

 a child

with a mask

is invisible

 flowing as the tides

in the estuaries of the mind

fulfilling words 

 the early bird catches the warm

 a cat 

high on a high shelf

superior intellect 

 autumn morning

darkness becomes ivory

gentle sunshine

 workshop words

like flies on a fly paper

in the sunshine

 the sun moves

every day a different thought

moves me

 rose hips

over the sea

sunset

 the silence of looking for the breath of change

 traffic lights

the girl with green hair 

crossing

 jay walking

between the bollards

a magpie

 the cat knew

a cat was coming 

before the cat came

 hot chrome

bright chip shop 

wet night

180

five to ten minutes

at ten to five

 bread rolls

five to ten minutes

at ten to five

 through us

the blood of the soil returns

beetroot

 leaving

no leaf remains unturned

my friends

 the forever steps

down the lanes of memory

roses are blooming

 corrugated fence

parable of the sower

graffiti 

 a red bus

passes a red post box

in the red rain

 acorns 

leaves are falling

the queen is dead

 the cortège passes

ten thousand smartphones 

give the straight arm salute

 rambling

along my path

a stranger

 the rest 

as they say 

is history

 extra ordinary

have you ordered bread

no the queen is dead

 third mug of tea

the water table rises

around my irises 

 late summer

damp things are put away

that were once warm

 the bell tolled

memorial ~ memorial ~ memorial

i forget when 

 lemmings

pro rege et patria

over the top

fluffy cat

black and white cat

black cat

 falling to sleep

i think of another haiku 

hey siri 

 funeral cortège 

tactical nuclear weapons

the half-life of tears

 unsubscribing

one of the king’s subjects

is revolting

 coppish 

is a fly by night word 

you drip

 pedometer 

the crack in my heel’s

feedback 

 mountains 

just knowing that ‘one day’

remains

 after explaining

the stillness of a rock

the frog hops it

 a man enters

with an icicle moustache 

the door slams

 meditation 

asking alexa 

to turn on the light

 King's visit

ten thousand selfies

wait in line

 dusk

a spider descending

on a thought

 many paths

lead up the mountain

to the same view

~

the hard path looks long

the easy path just glances

changing points of view

 trying to be

the summer you are not

dried grass

 a mirror 

reflecting onto a mirror

sunrise

 the path up the mountain has many steps

 the spider’s banquet 

sweeping up the skeletons

north wind

 a dying kite

what should be soaring away

nose butts the ground

build me a shrine

i need to lose these thoughts

every day 

 septuagenarians

i’ll be your memory 

if you’ll be mine

 cafe viewing

a rosary of taillights 

snaking out of eden 

 the planets lined

windfalls of celestial thought

the year is turning

 not 5 7 5

the child forgets the womb

times are a changing 

 its funny

why the clown

hanged himself

 thinking of nothing

then suddenly i found it

way beyond help

 far from the graveyard

the hoot hooting of an owl

the street fox freezes

 drone drone drone

the washing machine says 1:52

life sentence 

 a butterfly 

out-dancing a feather

another fall

 new to haiku

then teach me what i’ve lost

when i learnt to write

 the eye

by many a varied journey 

writes a tale

 windfalls

under a telling sky

this good morning

 Well I ask you!

"What’s it mean?"

You tell me.

 nose in a book

up to my eyes in haiku

there - i’ve said it now

 stray cat

to be fed 

but not pawed 

 yet the sun 

through an eye of a needle

dazzles

 starry night

 - a lighthouse 

     - a lighthouse 

 if you need more words

you are using the wrong words 

imagine that

 come here

trying to pat the cat

rainy morning

 

when they want your mind

they build the biggest temple

with the smallest door

when they want your mind 

they build themselves a palace

within a wall

 seance

the peaceful cat

is we

 when the slingshot

killed the sparrow childhood

empathy was born

 a false bird sang 

in a false golden cage 

about false hope 

 from one garden pond

summer of jewels spilled

over my neighbours 

 first one leaf

on the black pavement

and then another

 when they want your mind

they build the biggest temple

with the smallest door

 every other year

walking to Canaan Foxhole

Cymanfa Ganu

 the worms were turning

so they fed them football

away the lads

 the sun a breeze

flowing through the gardens

afternoon doze

 gathering storm

on the wind’s lamppost 

a lone wood pigeon 

 love in the sand

amongst all the footprints 

my wife’s bunions

 here again

the fox with the white tail

passing through

 night

a well of lament

bucketing down

 caterwaul 

of a cat on a wall

at midnight

 the music 

of the dawn breeze

in the flowers

 a bee’s

agnostic spirit of being

a spider

 all blood and matter

and quite a bit of water

under the bridge

 that moment

between summer and autumn 

without a sound

 so far away

we have crossed the bridge

of no shrine

 red i dared 

to call the morning harvest

dew on the windfalls

 wet afternoon 

sorting old buttons

on a circular rug

 grasshopper 

why are you in my shoe

wings on heels

 a ticket 

in the lottery of life 

marked death

 the music

through my fingers

smoothes the cat

 new arm chair 

the cat and i 

find a solution

 a pauper’s grave 

no one there to say a word

or to bear witness

 in the lavatory 

a poet is telling siri 

take a note

 the seagulls flock

gathering campylobacter 

from the rubbish tip

 always make time for the time of your life 

 a very rich man

the mountebank selling dreams

has a golden smile

 dawn

above the stone circle

and for a moment