Haiku Book

The days run away,
too scared to stay for too long,
just in case time stops.

I’m doing research,
the family tree or shrub,
it has loads of twigs.

What’s a guitar chord?
I call a guitar, guitar!
three notes short of fun.

first, third and fifth notes,
makes a chord, go on try it,
and what’s a minor?

The minor is best,
flatten the third note and see,
the difference there.

The rain came today,
and it feels, just like summer,
but just in England.

The brain is frozen,
and like an old computer,
it seems to flicker.

The story is old,
it is simple it’s not bold,
it is what it is.

Pork pies and jam tarts,
all the things that make one fart,
or so I am told.

I am free to choose,
the bog roll that I prefer,
and won’t tear easy.

The ice cream appeared,
and by some kind of magic,
it just disappeared

I am tied in knots,
well maybe no know or rope,
more like in a chair.

I wrote this all once,
and deleted it to see,
what would happen next.

here it is and see,
the poetry is more free,
and there’s less to see.

It’s Friday evening,
and near done it promising,
the weekend’s coming.

Thor’s day so they say,
a day to hammer on things,
and get something done.

I like the Norse tales,
they have a humour to them,
that is somehow dark.

These aren’t real Haiku,
they don’t conform to the norm,
for a proper one.

The milk in coffee,
is swirling like serene clouds,
that mesmerise me.

I want to write more,
just to finish just one book,
and a song or two.

Well it’s Wednesday,
middle of the working week,
neither here or there.

The sound of trouble,
a crash like something falling,
then a strange silence,

Stranger things happen,
I have seen a few I know,
but I couldn’t say.

Tomorrow’s D-Day,
why do they say that, beats me,
but people take it.

It’s Tuesday, so what,
another week and a day,
that goes in a blur.

The music has stopped,
the guitars hang silently,
waiting for their turn.

Liquorish All sorts,
my favourites and so good,
but my teeth don’t like..

I am just waiting,
for that time to come around,
and getting it right.

Tired I get up,
and the water freely flows,
down over my head.

I need to feel it,
just flowing fast and moving,
hot and reviving.

The day is Monday,
no fun day is dull Monday,
it is what it is.

I’m the walking dead,
I’m zombified and brain dead,
but still I’m breathing.

The coffee does help,
mug after mug, after mug,
then to the toilet.

Party time today,
the food prepared and drinks out,
as they all arrive.

It’s feeling so strange,
seeing friends and family,
around ours again.

The cake was so good,
and I got the little duck,
taken from the top.

Now to clean it up,
but no, that can wait a while,
at least one day more.

Out cutting the grass,
but nowhere for the cuttings,
except shopping bags.

The cloud hang heavy,
but just a light fine rain falls,
but that still soaks me.

Preparations done,
for party time tomorrow,
and a BBQ.

Saturday’s got me,
right at the end of my strength,
so I’m off to bed.

People passing by,
and chatting to each other,
with a laugh or two.

People getting out,
even though it’s very wet,
they don’t seem to mind.

The rain comes and goes,
pouring and then it has stopped,
then it starts again.

I have had to wait,
to collect the stuff outside,
and not to get wet.

A coffee invite,
down in London one day soon,
maybe I will go.

The weekend is here,
the day’s gone well with success,
in some planned meetings.