Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘haiku poetry’

Image

Ouch!

the family reunion barbeque
a massed gathering
of mosquitoes

**

one whining mosquito
patrols our quiet bedroom
no sleep tonight

**

broadcasting fortissimo
that darned frog again
‘eat some mosquitoes instead’

**

two more from a favourite Japanese haiku poet
Kobayashi Issa (1763 – 1827)

mosquito at my ear
does it think
I’m deaf?

**

all the time I pray to Buddha
I keep on
killing mosquitoes

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

Image

I’m bent over a bed of red, orange and gold crotons, pruning the dead leaves. There are no flashes of exotic flowers here, as all the colour is showcased by mass plantings of foliage. Variegated leaves of tall cannas and cordylines are offset by beds of soft white flannel flowers. Silver wattle occasionally breaks the spread of striped cream and green leaves. Further down, roses and snapdragons add a softer texture with their vibrant flashes of colour.

a perfect garden
stretches beyond
my front door

yet within me
rest empty heart spaces
I must also tend

loneliness
an old impacted root
I twist and pull at

Image

 

Read Full Post »

Winter Magic

Image

thick hoar-frost
covers my window
in silver light

Ice shapes resembling small fir trees stretch across the glass, while delicate snow flowers sparkle around them.  Lost in its beauty I move through this crystal garden as my warm fingers trace up and down, leaving a smudged pathway …

Mother’s voice interrupts, ‘Susan, come away from that cold window and get dressed or the school bus will leave without you!’

burning hoop pine
scent of a warm kitchen
oatmeal with brown sugar

 

Read Full Post »

Image

I climb round and round close to the outside wall, to avoid the railing as the stair treads narrow about their central post. A semi-circular platform rests high above with glass windows that provide a sweeping view. Counting the last few steps I finally reach the top of the Moreton Bay lighthouse, where I gaze in awe at the ocean below.

the rising sun
an endless pathway
of molten gold

Outside the lighthouse lamp is rotating. I disengage it as there is no need for its warning light. Now the bold red and white stripes of the lighthouse itself will become the beacon. I study the turbulence of the deep waters churning the rocky shore below. The subtle changes in the wind, waves and tides are entered in my log book—these brief markers of the ever transforming seascape that surrounds me.

 ebb tide
a foot print shelters
one tiny crab

Read Full Post »