Month: November 2021

I’m hiding away,
keeping quiet secretly,
playing Candy Crush.

The rain falls lightly,
almost unseen like a mist,
that coldly wets you.

Just after the dawn,
there is a beautiful light,
that brings things alive.

The autumn leaves fall,
golden brown like little birds,
flying to the ground.

Did the grave yard shift,
Kensal Green cemetery,
where Brunel resides.

‘So, what’s for dinner?’
‘How much do you have darling?’
“Hang on, and I’ll check.’

Riding the train home,
through darken scenes with some lights,
and music playing.

The bus was delayed,
and in fact it never came,
so I just walked home.

The drums are beating,
in the night like they’re calling,
people to come eat.

It is feeling cold,
the wind bites like a nipper,
and laughs at your pain.

This site is for fun, through Haiku poems and some, email what you’ve done.
Haikubook @outlook.com

And we’d like to hear, what you think of this blog site, and post what you write.

Get off your backside,
and do something worth doing,
that will pay the bills.

Shuffling the cards,
and cutting them at halfway,
at twenty six cards.

I fancy a game,
nothing fancy mind, you know,
Just a kick around.

The weather’s turning,
from cool, to chilly to cold,
but not back again.

The weather’s colder,
and i am getting older,
like everyone else.

There is a tension,
between the two opposites,
but they will not break.

Spreadsheets and numbers,
are a daily occurance,
when you seek results.

The mouse stayed at home,
the elephant packed his trunk,
and blue bells did chime.

Shopping done first thing,
then a booster run around,
where they told me no.

We got MacDonald’s,
that was just right for this time,
and went down so well.

Then a WhatsApp call,
that lasted for a long time,
so no exercise.

I am just ran down,
run around or just jumped on,
by a little one.

Friday here at last,
but it carries a sadness,
of time that is gone.

No one calls me now,
not a call, text or WhatsApp,
they won’t stop talking.

The river runs fast,
with under currents unseen,
dragging things under.

An email sent late,
as I found a mystery,
and had worked it out.

Two minutes silence,
over looking rows of graves,
each one with their thoughts.

Great uncles that died,
or Great Grandfather that lived,
through the First World War.

Or maybe family,
bombed out not once but three times,
during the air raids.

My thoughts in silence,
for just those two long minutes,
and a thousand thoughts.

Well it’s Wednesday,
what more can I really say,
without a stiff drink.

Travel to London,
the Central Line tube’s busy,
so I choose to stand.

The people are strange,
masks or no masks still they’re strange,
and I’m one of them.

I would sleep on trains,
I did a lot, but not now,
I don’t know why though.

What’s the point of it,
the rubber asked the pencil,
I just erase it.

Time’s irrelevant,
when it is words on paper,
for they’re without time.

Fatigue pursues me,
though I hide, it finds me fast,
and with blink I sleep.

The rain’s coming in,
from under that loose roof tile,
and it is dripping.