Haiku Book

The mystery’s gone,
not it’s known and understood,
so pedestrian.

I walk but can run,
I need that option badly,
bad, as it does hurt.

It was hot today,
I walked through woods exploring,
and found a cool breeze.

Not just a cold breeze,
somehting heavenly I say,
for I could stay there.

The breeze climbed a hill,
from the cool river below,
refreshing my soul.

I then could walk on,
and did and found the pathway,
that led me back home.

Where am I going?
A question I do not know,
the simple answer.

I’m going somewhere,
the truth harder than fiction,
that I like to write.

What do I mean then?
it’s simple – I am now old,
older than before.

The road ahead calls,
beckoning me with a trip,
to somewhere unknown.

It may be the place,
that I need to find myself,
like what I was young.

The days are longer,
and I am getting stronger,
swmming everyday.

The meals are okay,
just the time waiting for it,
that is difficult.

I am writing books,
they each demand their time too,
and I understand.

The weather is good,
it is warming up nicely,
and I enjoy that.

The journey was good,
along the roads without stops,
it was plain sailing.

You’d think it’s easy,
having time, on leave, to work,
on the things you love.

I am struggling now,
and I have just begun it,
and already behind.

My mind is not sharp,
full time work does sharpen it,
and gets it thinking.

A few more versus,
are a struggle, even now,
the tiredness comes on.

I want to finish,
what I have started today,
and so that is it.

The decision’s made,
it is all go somewhere else,
and see how it goes.

The dragons have won,
the risk is too great for us,
we’ll run to the hills.

The elves aren’t that bad,
well that is what Joey said,
he was a nice lad.

The pen is mighty,
migthier than the sword right,
in the right hands though.

My eyes rolled in sand,
that is how they are feeling,
closing them is best.

The ground disappeared,
and below us only space,
and some thick, white clouds,

Falling I grabbed out,
and snagging a thick white cloud,
I climbed on board it.

A monkey whistle,
and we started to move fast,
whizzing through the air.

I am changing jobs,
I have got a new offer,
and it;s sounding right.

Take bulls by their horns,
if you’re brave or fool enough,
and try and jump it.

Minoans loved that sport,
doing a cartwheel over,
a mad raging bull.

The puddles are gone,
packed and evaporated,
off to somewhere nice.

The days are warmer,
no jumpers or daft slippers,
and windows open.

Tiredness stalks me now,
I feel it breathing on me,
ready to pounce soon.

It’s June already,
where was the lovely springtime,
that I love so much.

Summer can be good,
in small doses and holidays,
but Autumn’s the best.

Althought I didn’t,
know her very well, I love,
the sound of her name.

Aubrey or Autumn,
does it matter, it’s the sound,
of her spaoken name.

Mirrors look at me,
judging me, I can see them,
saying naughty things.

I don’t give them time,
to fully analyse me,
that would be too much.

Dragons are demons,
with their Smaug faces and size,
and all those riches.

Anyway please take care,
if you are asked to get it,
yes that Arken stone.

The newspaper ran,
a special on the attack,
and the damage done.

I’ve hung up my sword,
along with my bow and stuff,
it’s gathering dust.

The first one I killed ,
flew over head and I fired,
straight into its heart.

It fell to the ground,
roaring in pain and dying,
until it was gone.

We keep just one claw,
it tells alot about it,
how old and from where.

The wife was cooking,
ten pans, and a frying pan,
and twenty glasses.

We went out walking,
in the cool evening sunshine,
list’ning to the birds.

The crossword is mad,
it says it’s never complete,
that’s true in my house.

It’s a long weekend,
but like the rest it does end,
can I stop it here.

Piano is playing,
tickling some funky music,
that makes me happy.

The times ticking on,
tick tock the seconds do pass,
a minute and more.

In my blue heaven,
it swings on melodically,
and ends way too soon.

Shine on harvest moon,
Leon Redborn sounding good,
it’s got a great feel.

All that old stuff eh!
old song, and an old singer,
state of the art sound.

Violins playing,
I’m saving my love for you,
Fats Waller classic.

It is relaxing,
it calms me down a little,
with those great rhythms.

And it is called swing,
with some great syncopations,
and sweet melodies.

A strumming guitar
Champagne Charlie is my name,
in a drunken voice.