Wednesday, 30 December 2009

year's end drizzle
a moorhen takes a run-up
to launch into the stream

Thursday, 24 December 2009

sleet on the skylight
I open a present of moon poems

Saturday, 19 December 2009

Advent night
a coot against the river
gets nowhere fast

Saturday, 12 December 2009

jacketed horses
graze the churned-up field
waning moon

Saturday, 28 November 2009

after the storm
sunlight picks out the lettering
on Georgian gravestones

Saturday, 7 November 2009

at dusk
in the shade of sunflowers
a lone figure
hunched against the wind
tends his pumpkins

Saturday, 31 October 2009

All-Hallows' summer
the avocets' plumage
yellowed by sunset
out of and into
the sunlit mudflats
a rusty chain

Sunday, 25 October 2009

autumn rain
the nutty bits of peanut butter
lodge in a crumpet's holes
through an angler's pipesmoke rising jays

Friday, 2 October 2009

evening haze
a stag bellows
in every direction

Saturday, 19 September 2009

inching sideways
along a twilight bough:
the parakeet's tail

Friday, 11 September 2009

on one leg
the wood pigeon nips
a careful sip:
the dusk-lit ripples
of a shallow stream

Saturday, 29 August 2009

by the coastward path
the stems of viper's-bugloss
coil in the breeze
gallows field
a painted lady's wings
unfurl on hemp-agrimony

Wednesday, 26 August 2009

the fanning
of a collared dove's
tail feathers...
evening light cascades
across the cemetery

Monday, 24 August 2009

rain-mist up the steep battlefield ranks of spear-thistles
at the end of a lane on the downs windmill-sails slowly turn

Saturday, 15 August 2009

all the shovelers up-ending August dusk
his summer hat
shadowing the weir-sped flow
among loosestrife
a fisherman mumbles
into the tributary

Saturday, 8 August 2009

I snag my fingers
on bramble thorns

Thursday, 6 August 2009

mid-innings lull
long leg chews the fat
with a dog-walker

Sunday, 2 August 2009

balmy evening
an Elvis impersonator
does it his way

Sunday, 26 July 2009

my train veers
across the points
school's out
the riverbank flush
with tansy florets

Wednesday, 15 July 2009

at the point
where the river
turns tidal
the undercurrents
slowly surface

- Eucalypt

Saturday, 4 July 2009

English Frogs

Crouched at the pond’s edge,
my younger son finds shade from the eighty-eight

degrees sun-trap and points out each
of the frog-heads poking up through the duckweed

and asks, Why do frogs stay still for so long?
On an English day like this,

It can only be because they’re philosophical,
wise or just plain can’t be bothered.

Saturday, 27 June 2009

off his mum's bowling
the boy runs to field
his own on-drive

Friday, 19 June 2009

a few bars of a song
I haven't heard for years...
screeching swifts

Friday, 12 June 2009

The Painted Ladies' Invasion

It commences with a mass emergence
from the foothills of the Atlas Mountains.
Two months later they cross the sierras
en route to Gascogne and Pas de Calais,
where, like William the Bastard, they launch
their invasion on favourable winds

over La Manche towards Ditchling Beacon
and on, via chalk escarpments,
glinting their reddish-orange as they go,
streaming in many thousands to settle
on heathland rich in nettle and thistle,
viper’s-bugloss, burdock and other treats,

or railwayside allotments where they
alight on Granddad’s nascent runner beans.
Their caterpillars, or those which survive,
metamorphose in flash flood or heatwave
and congregate along the Pilgrims’ Way
for take-off homeward to the Berber lands.

Friday, 5 June 2009

There's a new issue of Shamrock out and it's also worth checking out the new online haiku journal, Notes From the Gean.
catching up:
the cadence of the runner
behind me

Wednesday, 27 May 2009

Sometimes the Wheels Fall Off

The last-gasp smidgen of the April sunset
fires up the stained-glass chancel window

as the headline act—a singer/songwriter
and his laid-back band—begins another

blasphemous tune, about a doorstep encounter
with a JW suit, then pulls up, laughing, after

one or two bars because it’s too fuckin’ dark
to see the fretboard of his battered guitar

until the lighting man, Tall Paul, sorts it out,
by kaleidoscoping the sanctuary into night.

Saturday, 23 May 2009

May night
all the shop dummies

Sunday, 17 May 2009

over the rumbles
of a cornering tram
the swoop of terns

Friday, 8 May 2009

from the tiles
of a pudding-stone church:
chaffinch song

northern winds
a blackbird tops
the topiary

Wednesday, 6 May 2009

pocking the flintwork
of the ruined priory:
a murder of crows

Friday, 1 May 2009

in the gap between
the track and the old brickwork
of the platform base
spring sunshine settles
on a clump of ragwort
horse chestnut flowers my anecdote going nowhere

Sunday, 26 April 2009

feeling it
before it kicks in:
the bassline

Sunday, 19 April 2009

With thanks to Allan Burns, there's a few of my bird haiku on the Red Moon Press 'Montage' website.

Tuesday, 14 April 2009

pressing his finger
on a cactus spine:
my younger son

Thursday, 9 April 2009

Bleasdale Haiku

pink moon
the plashing of the brook
from the dark fells

onto my fingers the rust of the farmyard gate

on the lower slopes
of Parlick, a cock pheasant
flusters into flight

between fields of hares my shadow runs with the s-bend

heavy going
through the waterlogged field
clay-pigeon shards

Sunday, 29 March 2009

hail and sleet
the barber nips next door
to lay a bet

Friday, 13 March 2009

cherry blossom
one crow harries another
from a chimney pot

Wednesday, 4 March 2009

There are two haiku of mine in the latest issue of The Heron's Nest.
my slouch in my son's shoulders winter's end
I have a new poem at Football Poets.

Friday, 27 February 2009

The Properties of Silver

I clutch a bullion of you,
etched upon and raised, embossed and engraved,
yet still unmistakably you:
patina the bark of a London plane;
burnished product of smelted concentrates;
the bondstone in my molars, sealing space.

Friday, 20 February 2009

seated on moss
I listen to the bourne
flow through oak wood

Wednesday, 18 February 2009

A Platter of Toys

Today I lunched on a silver piccolo
and octaves in D bubbled up in a stream.
Pausing only to warble a burp, I wolfed
down the pieces of an unfinished jigsaw
of a mountainous Lake Titicaca scene;

and crunched a model of the Flying Scotsman
in its fabled livery of Lincoln green;
but then my rumbling appendix protested,
so I had no room for a roly-poly
of a Partick Thistle Subbuteo team.
There's a haibun of mine at Football Poets.

Monday, 16 February 2009

There is a review of Wing Beats in the spring issue of Simply Haiku.

Saturday, 14 February 2009

golden light
a magpie swallow-dives
into the conifers
on a spread of ivy
over tilted tombstones
snow turns to sleet

Saturday, 7 February 2009

behind an ait
the river levels
an ancient slipway

Saturday, 24 January 2009

A poem of mine was among the winners in the Tanka Splendor Awards 2008.
as it stretches
back to preen, the sinews
of a swan's neck

Saturday, 17 January 2009

You Are the Weather (after Roni Horn)

If indeed you are the weather,
you’re a sun-through-showers-

then-plentiful-sunshine sort:

equinoctial mushroom weather
over moorland, heath and common,

where clumps of liberty caps

pop up before your eyes.

Saturday, 10 January 2009

on bramble leaves
alongside the river:
layers of frost

Saturday, 3 January 2009

winter light
the riverside winos
neck white wine