Author: Pontvert

Waiting for something,
It is tough and frustrating,
Just expecting it.

Will you buy the book?
It’s packed with funny Haiku,
On this and that stuff.

This stuff is easy,
But that stuff is much harder,
Plain stuff is boring.

Had a writing day,
No mobile,
Pen and paper,
And my restless thoughts.

I’m travelling on,
Here, there and everywhere,
The roads less travelled.

The moon follows me,
There through clear or cloudy skies,
Waxing and waning.

The morning air’s cool,
The weather’s feeling guilty,
For its storm last night.

The trains are ready,
Back in force,
“We’re okay!”
It laughs, “We’re on time!”

The full moon passed by,
Without any strange happ’nings,
And no lunatics.

Reviewing my books,
Getting back on track I think,
At least there’s a plan.

Back to the work week,
Others’ wants and needs to fix,
Or do, or something.

My car is kaput,
So tried to book an Uber,
Accept and cancel!

It made Sunday good,
One less thing to have to do,
Useful times too few.

It is my rest day,
Friday’s over, recover,
Restore and relax.

There’s always something,
Must do this and must do that,
Have a cup of tea.

I know it is late,
But I took Christmas things down,
And packed that away.

We’re back in the swing,
Of the full week daily toil,
And in full training.

The car is now gone,
It was gone when I got home,
Last night, it felt strange.

The train’s not busy,
It’s clear some like Friday off,
Suits me! Suits me fine.

There are politics,
Among the loose lunatics,
Which way do they go?

The dawn is repressed,
The weight of night still heavy,
But it’s getting light.

No pond or lone frog,
No breeze on the still water,
Just words on a page.

Scribbles in wet sand,
Before the water rises,
Gone, not forgotten.