another year is gone
a traveler’s shade on my head,
straw sandals at my feet
Bashō
moments, like a passing breeze
served as tutor for my soul
another year is gone
a traveler’s shade on my head,
straw sandals at my feet
Bashō
moments, like a passing breeze
served as tutor for my soul
Filed under As you read it, faith, Old knowledge, On the lines of romance, Self compositions

Together we watch
sunrise over the mountain,
our world is brightened
Filed under From the heart, Haiku, nature inspired, On the lines of romance

Clad in matching tones
lovers fixed in cold embrace
their limbs entwined.
Shy beneath their parasol
whispering with the wind.

Nestled in his wings
yet unseen, the playful sprite,
plucks tunes from her hair.
Unknowing, all she hears is,
snare-drum stone midst cooing foam.
Filed under nature inspired, On the lines of romance, Self compositions, Tanka

each fragrant frond will sacrifice it’s spirit to the bee
Filed under Factual, nature inspired, On the lines of romance, Self compositions

Ebony trees and mottly skies
contrast the walls of snowdrop white
with latticed glass and black oak beams.
Magpies peer down from lofty eaves
as cross and chevrons guide our eyes
to telltale wisps from tall chimneys.
While on the lawn at close of day
badgers emerge to take the stage
witnessed from the trees, the deer.
While yet nervous, bowed heads feed,
poised ears, black nostrils, watchful eyes
each white rump signals silently.
When her waters broke
after panic came relief,
soon be labour day
Filed under As you read it, Haiku, On the lines of romance, Self compositions, Whimsical

Your heart on your sleeve
can leave you vulnerable
to exploitation,
although such love is fickle
it educates us in life
Filed under As you read it, Factual, On the lines of romance, Self compositions, Tanka
Graham inserted the key. Behind him Julie nibbled her upper lip and looked at the peeling paint on the once dark-blue door. He seemed to her to be taking a long time and it was cold standing out here on the dark doorstep. There was very little light from the street lamp on the opposite side of the road. At last he said, “That’s got it,” and pushed the door open before reaching for the light-switch. The hall stayed dull as if the lamp was operating on low power. “After you,” he reached behind her and stood to one side as she entered, “the first door on the right,”. She took a step forward and turning the handle indicated, pushed the door open. He reached past her and flicked another switch, this time the light was brighter. “Welcome in,” he smiled, “what do you think of it?”
Julie looked around, her first impression was she had entered a Victorian boudoir with two large armchairs, a dresser with a large mirror and old-fashioned china ornaments. A tall dark wood bookcase filled one wall. The top two shelves were crammed with very old looking books in leather binding. She realised that it was probably these which gave the room it’s distinctive, rather unpleasant smell. If she was going to visit him again she would have to do something about that. A strange thought occurred to her that it smelt like something long dead.
Graham looked at her nervously, he could sense something wrong. He hoped that she would not be another of his guests who got frightened and asked to leave before his fun began.
Woodpecker drumming,
above the leafy carpet,
butterflies feign love,
sunbeams make elevators
where mosquitoes choose to dance
Filed under Factual, nature inspired, On the lines of romance, Self compositions, Tanka
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