The Dopia
Grove upon grove Of olive trees Just growing Into an eternity Returning from antiquity A thousand years Or more Ancient gnarled entwined Their delightful purple harvest Fruits of the gods The olives Ready for the press The olive grove
The Wild Dogs
“Three A pack of wild dogs Feral scavengers Yet not aggressive Loveable in fact Under coats of dust and dirt Lie two Trusting large brown eyes Yet crafty canine eyes Under a cover of partial mistrust Likeable to look at Barking howling Squealing Asking “Where is my food?” They bark to the Ferals on the […]
Dove and water
Clear water A dove drinks A caress of raindrops As she flutters Beneath the cascade Of cold water There just for her As she relishes her Cool drink With seed in abundance Lying on a dry earth She perches there Quietly cooing Now replete
The honey guide bird
With the cries of the birds Perhaps the honey-guide I come across a flounce of red flowers In a pearlescent dusk The bees must have a name for it Lazy-blowing fragrance Of the carnation border They must have a name for it too In bee language Honey flowers Here and there More and more As […]
Haiku, Anne, 4
From under a camphor tree Was given to me A tiny maiden flower
Haiku, Anne, 2
One hears the cuckoo Singing about the peony Near the temple dome
Howdy Partners
As a lover of old westerns, I remember the scenes of the town, just before the baddies ride in, or when the gold has finally run out in them thar hills. The camera shows the empty street, dust swirling, saloon door swinging in the wind and then zooms in on a clump of tumbleweed rolling down the […]
Dying Sunflower (a cinquain 2,4,6,8,2)
Dying Sunflower Curling at the edges, a whorling maze of seeds where goldfinches get lost inside gorging. and another…………. Mushroom Magic I let you see cap, stem, gills. But not my best trick. Behind a curtain of leaves I’m dealing with decay, decomposing debris, conjuring carbon into oak woods.
A queston of pespective
A question of perspective Birth, life and death are mere ripples on the surface of time. The merest of kinks in what is such a long, long line. But to a kinky ripple they mean everything.
Long Distance
Death phoned me today; it was quite a surprise. Wrong number, I guess but we talked anyway. I was feeling so well until the bell tolled but a discourse on hell made a change from cold calls from the depths of Bengal so we talked about life and the end of it all until time […]