Three Haikus

  1. Child of my child, I

scoop you up and hug you, breathe

you in and keep you.

2. Daffodils today;

chuir siad gliondar ar mo chroí,**

glowing, golden bright.

3. A rose, heart-stopping

red, intoxicating scent,

irony of thorns.

** Irish for “they bring joy to my heart”.

3 Haikus

  1. Blessed, healing rain

soaks into my parched skin and

flushes out all grief.

2. Narrow, stone-walled streets,

palace, church and square resound

with strains of Mahler.

3. My new laptop lives –

it whispers, groans and purrs and

winks its crimson eyes.

From my collection “From There to Here” which I will publish on Amazon Kindle before the end of the year.

A couple of haikus

Since I have been immersing myself in Japanese writers recently, I thought I’d have a go at a few haikus:


  1. Be still; half-close your                                                                       

eyes, and listen to the sound                            

of the universe.                                                

2. My hands kneading dough                               

become your hands in cloudy              

puffs of wheaten flour.

3. Fragile spider’s web –

its silken, silver threads a

charnel house of flies.

4. A slimy, silver

trail across my balcony –

well, snails must live too.

5. My face against the

grass, I smell the fecund earth,

watch the insects creep.

6. A homeless man called

out – today I did not eat –

a wail of anguish.

It’s fun to do actually; I enjoyed writing them!