Haiku Book

An occupation,
unwelcome and unwanted;
leave Ukraine alone.

The months move along,
gliding from one to the next;
marching through this one.

I shall just wait here,
until the blue bird goes red,
if only its tail.

I sit here alone,
my coffee for company,
and a warm feeling.

The mist rolling in,
and down in the valley,
where just the lights show.

Tensions are rising,
as they stare at each other,
both thinking the same.

The chocolate’s gone,
once he starts he cannot stop,
but it tastes so good.

She found it was strange,
and even foreign to her,
this fame like desire.

Pancake day today,
I like them hot with lemon,
and with some honey.

I have seen danger,
it stares back at you and sneers,
so I stand my ground.

There’s lots to do,
so knock off the easy ones,
and work the hard ones.

A productive month,
you will find is March for sure,
better than April.

One day I will fly,
and I’ll soar up to the sun,
and feel the winds’ lift.

I’ve overdone it,
too many hours in the day,
looking at the screen.

Tube strike travel fun,
or maybe simply stay home,
and work as normal.

I have missed today,
its air and outside feeling,
being locked inside.

Going underground,
in tunnels to look around,
with fascination.

What a crazy day,
I really can’t explain it,
but the sun did shine.

What I thought was what,
turned out to be something else,
and a this or that.

I’ve hit rock bottom,
and it does feel kind of hard,
now to climb back out.

I am well rested,
but I am feeling tired,
it is a strange life.

I held on the line,
for maybe forty minutes,
to hear the same song

I try to recall,
the good times I have enjoyed,
but they’re hidden well.

With no camera,
a hawk hovered and hunting,
so close and so long.

My passions do fade,
and I’m surrounded by things,
that I used to love.

Without a purpose,
they now look so different,
objects and not tools.

The day went quickly,
and faster than I wanted,
but glad it’s Friday.

The folder paper,
that is filled with the days news,
and is left speechless.

The coffee shop called,
‘Fancy something nice and hot?’,
but, I hurried by.

The weather felt cold,
but it really was the wind,
that brought it to me.

Days are slipping by,
one by one they say good bye,
and each one matters.

In London today,
and took the the tube westwards
reading a paper.

Did you see me there?
Maybe you did see me there,
sitting by the doors.

I caught my train home,
with relief mixed with tiredness,
that overwhelmed me.

With tightly clenched fists,
and steely grey piercing eyes,
he stared them all down.

The journey is long,
but the end justifies it,
when you play that song.

I’m falling asleep,
my feel so heavy its hard,
to stop them closing.

I’m trailing behind,
caught in the nets, being dragged,
through the catch-up seas.

I watched the sun set,
and missed the sound of the sea.
and a summers breeze.

Teddy bear parties,
are always fun but messy
but the hats are good.

I woke from my dream,
just to find I was floating,
somewhere over York.

The winter leaves fade,
and like leafy skeletons,
the earth accepts them.

The guitar strings sound,
a strum and minor chord,
rings clear and mellow.

The date’s playing games
a tu-tu oh-tu tu-tun,
and that has rhythm.