Haiku on Saturday #19

Shadow’s passage past
the window, marks the footsteps
of another day.

Haiku on Saturday #18

History brushes
Past them, while they are busy
Shopping, minds shut tight.

Haiku on Saturday #17

Blinded houses, with
Their broken panes, the sad waste
In their brick faces.

Haiku on Saturday #16

A silence, sucked dry
Of living sounds, dust-quiet,
the empty old house.

Haiku on Saturday #15

Children’s dangling lives,
like charms on boredom’s wrist, dance
all holiday long.

Haiku on Saturday #14

Three-legged dog runs,
lollops its way home, as if 
Defying its loss.

Haiku on Saturday #13

Pulverised fragments
Of a car window, where peace
Of mind was stolen.

Haiku on Saturday #12

Drowned trolley, beck-mired,
A few yards from its fellows,
Suburban shipwreck.

Haiku on Saturday #11

Graffiti-clad fence,
Notepaper for today’s youth,
Seems tired of the words.

Haiku on Saturday #10

The past few haikus have tried to observe one of the rules of the form, namely that they should deal with some aspect of nature. However, the urban environment, with its man-made parameters, is a fruitful source of short images which, like snapshots, freeze the experience into seventeen syllables.


Worn, broken tarmac.
As nature fights back, it slips
off hard, cruel shackles.

Haiku on Saturday #9

It’s a comforting,
damp, living kind of silence
deep amidst the trees.

Haiku on Saturday #8

Tricksy season, spring
With its rainy moods and sun
Equally spread out.

Haiku on Saturday #7

Wind toys with branches.
Shrubs dance to a silent tune.
Wild spring stays awhile.

Haiku on Saturday #6

Autumn geese in grey
skies, the summer flees southward
as the days shrivel.

Haiku on Saturday #5

Black cat unfolds and
becomes a sinuous shape,
a sketch of languor

Haiku on Saturday #4

Snowflakes on the wind.
The lake is slowly freezing.
Windows mist at dusk.

Haiku on Saturday #3

Crow follows the plough.
Hungry crow, wolf of the fields;
Torn scrap of blackness.

Haiku on Saturday #2

What is left of a
lifetime’s dreams? All that remains
is seen in his face.

Haiku on Saturday #1

Frost on the fields makes
an old man of the landscape.
The year is ancient.

Haikus are great; little bite-sized nuggets of poetry, tightly packed and quick to read. I've got quite a few tucked away and I'll be posting one every Saturday.