Haiku Book

The time’s slipping by,
some say that it is too shy,
to stop and say hi.

The seconds look back,
just for a nanosecond,
a slight blur in time.

The mobile has stopped.
it doesn’t move and is still,
it begins to ring.

So any road home,
will do on a winters night,
when it’s cold and dark.

The pencil leads on,
around the page in circles,
some call a scribble.

The tension’s rising,
and people are realising,
they own true passion.

The fog closes in,
like a veal of white or sin,
that conceals a crime.

The blood drips and drips,
from the pointing finger tips.
into a cold pool.

The sun came today,
and said it wanted to play,
and make shadows lay.

Finding the real truth,
will not take a old days sleuth,
just an open mind.

The water runs fast,
each drop thinks it is the last,
and so they push past.

The problem with cats,
are like the this and the thats,
who knows what they think.

The great snail derby,
got off to a real slow start,
with Dark Spark leading.

The words are waiting,
and they long to get dating,
in poems mating.

The nonsense is real,
it’s all around us just feel,
the joy of their fun.

I’ve lost count of time,
and the words no longer rhyme,
except the sublime.

I’m feeling my way,
through dark mental passageways,
places I can’t stay.

When the feeling’s gone,
on rocks where the sun had shone,
then I feel alone.

I’m spinning around,
there is nothing, not a sound,
until music’s found.

I’m stirring the mug,
watching the vortex forming,
and climbing the walls.

Sitting in darkness,
and I can feel the silence,
crawling on my skin.

A life is taken,
and those around are shaken,
so they’re awakened.

I found my music,
it was on my mobile phone, somewhere there hidden

It can be so strange,
just how simple things can be,
and how hard they are.

My head is hurting,
from this morning until now,
it’s a nagging pain.

Ive found the answer,
it’s music and M&Ms,
to help me work well.

There are other ways,
but they are very boring,
so let me have fun.

Execise is good,
and I try to do my part,
little by little.

Well Sunday lunchtime,
use to be late and special,
now it is just soup.

The way things do chnage,
some for good, like passing clouds,
others rooted well.

It was hard today,
the week took it out of me,
and now I need rest.

A sabbath for real,
just some shopping to be done,
and not alot more.

A song was written,
but I couldn’t find the tune,
but tried a few on.

There’s more to be done,
I enjoy it, and it’s fun,
when it does happen.

It has rained all day,
and we wonder where Spring is,
and hope for summer.

All songs need dressing,
naked it’s like a poem,
with a tune, dressed well.

Sleep will come easy,
I feel it in my eyes now,
and a heaviness.

I bounced through the day,
from one thing to another,
and that is Friday.

Was interrupted,
by a small raiding party,
that tried to distract.

Help came in tea cups,
okay, true, twas coffee mugs
by regular drops.

The guitar watched on,
it’s strings silent and ready,
to play any tune.

I got some good news,
a good opportuniy.
but it’s far away.

It is a Thursday,
so long with promises unkept,
of a close weekend.

I went for a walk,
and wet like a winters day,
but I needed it.

My life on the line,
close up and dirty like war,
without the bullets.

Bedtime came early,
well earlier than last night,
ad sleep came quickly.

The night came and went,
and dreams were in short supply,
just that sleepy warmth.

I haven’t a clue,
and I wish you had one too,
then we could share it.

A clue halfed is fun,
it’s not what it was but then,
it chance is doubled.

Logic eludes me,
and I find myself floating,
in random cloud thoughts.

The works still flow out,
and form a stream like water,
lit by the moon light.

There was rain today,
and the day before, I saw,
so good for my lawn.

I’m a betting man,
always thinking what I’d do,
if I won it big.

The day drags along,
without pausing it goes on,
and is done too soon.

That is the problem,
time, stress, work load and the rest,
distort the time left.

I’m going onwards,
taking the high road forwards,
and for the great views.

It isn’t over,
even if it was you’d know,
that you didn’t know.

Time tickles onwards,
the sand grains ever falling,
until they just stop.

I’m count backwards,
ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five,
four, three, two and one.

Why was six afraid?
It’s because seven eight nine.
I do love this one.

I’m falling asleep,
the day’s realy beaten me,
and I am now flat.

My eyelids are lead, i
t’s hard to keep them open,
and sleep will come quick.

I am not sure why,
that I should feel this like this,
crashing out so quick.

A mental flashback,
took me back to Trinidad,
and people I know.

It happen more now,
I get these sudden feelings,
of my times goneby.

Like buring bridges,
we tried to burn down a bridge,
that was made of steel.

The windows we broke,
throwing stones, or playing ball,
not at the same time.