Month: December 2020

I went out walking,
But the rain began to fall,
Until I was home.

It feels like winter,
Overcast skies and icy winds.
I watch from inside.

I miss travelling,
The bus, the trains and walking,
Through the London streets.

Do Haiku’s make sense?
For me, it is stress relief,
Sometimes can be fun.

I’m falling asleep,
The comfy chair and heater,
Make that so easy.

It’s edging closer,
Christmas day and all it’s pomp,
And dishes to wash.

I went for a walk,
Early morning through the woods,
And saw a robin.

I’ve written some songs,
And have been arranging them,
Ready to record.

My new fountain pen,
Really helps me to write more,
So smooth and graceful.

The tide pulls me down,
The ebb tides strong under tow,
Drowning as I go.

The sand feels so hot,
Burning the soles of my feet,
So I look for shade.

Remembering things,
Good times when young in the sun,
Swimming and surfing.

Now it’s computers,
With on line shopping and work,
Not too hot or wet.

My mind’s on furlow,
I am still paying for it,
But it does no work.

Sun through the window,
Feels warm like a summers day,
Displacing winter.

The blank page glares back,
Tempting creativity,
Anticipating.

A steady line drawn,
Setting a boundary line,
To be stepped over.

Time drops from the clock,
Rapidly falling seconds.
Into piles of hours.

I woke up at 9,
A little late for me now,
It was needed though.

Researching family,
Tracing some old relatives,
But not their stories.

I’m a pork pie fan,
That is is not Pop-Eye stuff,
That’s got me laughing.

Four bags of shopping,
Every item sanitised,
And then put away.

I’m finding my way,
Everything is new,
And so hard to do.

It’s a coffee cup, formed by the last three Haiku, I kinda like it.

Hard to finish up,
Lots of stress and lots to do,
What a life it is!

It turned 6pm,
And I then turned it all off,
And unplugged it all.

Now there is a peace,
No quiet just a real peace,
And a strange numbness.

I have plans to do,
If only I could I would,
Maybe tomorrow.

Christmas is coming,
With busy shops and then sales,
And all it’s good cheer.

I’m writing in verse,
Found out in the universe,
Somewhere past Saturn.

Work is dragging on,
Things to do and meetings too,
Writing odd reports.

I’d rather write songs,
Then listen to them play out,
And give me the tune.

My office’s the same,
And as it was yesterday,
It’s just me chnaging.

I’m painting pictures,
Telling tales, posing poems,
And laying down ink.

The stars shine brightly,
In the pitch black evening sky,
Orion stands strong.

Tell me, “Where’s yer bin?”
Come on mate, “Where’s yer dust bin?”
“Where’s yer wheely bin?”

Christmas comes quickly,
The days are starting to blurr,
At this festive time.

The car got a run,
Down to the shop for some eggs,
And few other things.

The rain freely falls,
Lightly onto the wet ground,
But I’m walking on.

No news forthcoming,
I call for it, but nothing,
Just, try tomorrow.

I woke the twelve time,
This time to get up and shower,
And greet this new day.

The way the light played,
Kept my interest a bit,
But nothing to see.

Some toast for breakfast,
A mug of coffee steaming,
It felt like a friend.