as eyes seize it
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 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
through us
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
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
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
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
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