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.