Haiku Book

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.

An emptiness comes,
filling the space with nothing,
and removing hope.

The winter’s coming,
with its cold like a wet fish,
slapped across your face.

The fire’s burning low
and the embers flicker high
but the warmth lingers.

I am stating put,
keeping my head, and focused,
on this present now.

Well it’s soon Monday,
and Sunday’s slipping away,
into the evening.

The weekend is gone,
and the sun does and has shone,
in a winters sky.

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

Already I tire,
and feel like sleeping again,
though it’s still evening.

Buckle up I say,
make Monday a better day,
and grab it’s balls hard.

The shopping is done,
and that’s not a lot of fun,
but the bags did hold.

The sun shines brightly,
casting clouds like silver clothes,
across cold blue skies.

The second of time,
that’s lost for eternity,
can’t ever be found.

Profound gets so deep,
and words like that takes you down,
deep underground.

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

The weather has changed,
it feels more like winter now,
with the wind that bites.

The trees drop their leaves,
and the pathway’s slippery.
best be careful now.

The fire works did work,
and impressive for at time,
burning our money.

The moon looked naked,
in the morning sunshine light,
that caught its dark side.