May 31st

Rabbits race to shrub

abacus beads on runners

buff tails disappear

Pegsdon Hills again, I want to make the most of the long evenings. The rabbits saw me lumbering towards them and scarpered, all in the same direction, into the safety of shrubs!

May 30th

Green tipped meadow flight

nectar stations colourful

Cabbage white dancers

I ran on the moors for the first time in a while. The flower meadows were magnificent. I wish I knew about them to name them, but it didn’t stop me from being inspired to see so many colours and so many cabbage white butterflies teasingly flitting between them all to drink.

May 29th

Choked on the upslope

longing for the swifts to lift

his weary carcass

Running is hard, one day I’ll beat those chalk steps leading up to the pinnacle of Pegsdon Hills!

May 28th

 

Blackbird distracted

Goldfinch singing, steals his perch

king for a moment

The blackbird owns this tree. He disappeared for a bit and the Goldfinch moved in. Their songs are so delicate. Although I love blackbird song, it was nice to get a new record on the jukebox.

(this image from rspb, image above by me)

May 27th

 

Cuckoo well you sing

sumer is icumen in

queen of May renewed

Heard my first cuckoo of the year today, quite late compared to other years. That’s not to say they haven’t been around, it’s just I haven’t heard them.

Co-incidentally it’s also Christopher Lee’s 90th birthday today. Made me think of the ending of the Wicker Man, where he (Lord Summerisle) and his islanders sing a version of the old English jolly tune “Sumer is icumen in”. I wont spoil the ending if you haven’t seen the film, but youtube conveniently has the fittingly chilling finale (and the song I’m on about here).

The song cites cuckoo’s too. Quite apt! And I do it homage in my Haiku today.

(from rspb website)

May 26th

The egg sac seething

silk severed weave and repair

afraid of the dark

I went to the Freud Museum, to catch the Louise Bourgeois exhibition “the return of the repressed” before it finished. I really admire Bourgeois work, so interesting and unique, so personal.

There is something ancient and deep seated about her art, from the darkest recesses of dreams and metaphor. It speaks of maternal relationships, sadness, abandonment. It really drags you in. It makes you feel something. Her work is honest and beautiful.

I’ve interlaced some of her words in the Haiku.

"I came from a family of repairers. The spider is a repairer. If you bash into the web of a spider, she doesn't get mad. She weaves and repairs it."

(one of Bourgeois’ spiders in the garden, i took the photo, then I noticed the “no photography” sign, oops)

And also from her textile piece “I am afraid”.

 

I am afraid of silence

I am afraid of the dark

I am afraid to fall down

I am afraid of insomnia

I am afraid of emptiness

 

Is something missing?

yes, something is missing and always will be missing

the experience of emptiness

 

To miss

what are you missing?

nothing

I am imperfect but I am lacking nothing

maybe something is missing but I do not know and therefore do not suffer

 

empty stomach empty house empty bottle

the falling into a vacuum signals the abandonment of the mother.

May 25th

Hoof prints cracked baked earth
buttercup meadow simmers
white horse in clover

May 24th

 

The Devil’s wisdom

sanctity of solitude

stares through hollow souls

After playing football, I decided to make use of the beautifully warm evening and take a run up Pegsdon Hills. Getting to the top at sunset you are rewarded with the fiery end of the day. There was a haze in the sky, it was particularly red. And the black sheep with their peculiarly sinister horns were amassed, giving me the opportunity to take some wonderful pictures (even if I do say so myself!) of them and the stunted little hawthorns, some of which were starting to bloom.

Sheep and goats have got a rough deal over the centuries, their features and eyes giving them a devilish appearance. But you know, it isn’t their fault we stuck a label on them :)

I love going to the hills, it gives time to think, there’s rarely people up there. Solitude and reflection is something to treasure.

May 23rd

Shaded by rowan

to rest on a bed of leaves

listening to doves

Our cat Katie has been labouring with a back injury of late, she hasn’t got the confidence in springing at the moment, so on vet’s instruction we’re monitoring her, to see if she’s showing any improvement.

It may be that’s she’s just getting old of course, poor thing. She likes it when we’re outside, she feels safe around us, knowing we’ll look after her and the likelihood of her having to sprint away from danger is minimal.

Well, today, what with it being beautifully hot, even into the evening, I fully expected her to lie in his usual spot, a little curled cat shaped indentation in the leaf litter, wedged between the trunk of the rowan tree and the edge of the decking. She didn’t oblige me as she wanted to stay up on the table of course.

I love that cat’s are so fickle. So this Haiku is for Katie, we love her very much!

May 22nd

 

Acorn rain takes root

The old oak’s fey children dig

fated to perish

We felt guilty plucking this youthful oak from the earth. It’s so beautiful and virile, even when so tiny. The leaves are so defined. Clearly an oak. But it would smother the garden, shunt the house foundations, before itself would succumb to its massive parent.

May 21st

Black eyes examine

the gasping rabbit body

sweet hot red broken

I had to wake up at 4.30 to get out of the house at 5.30am. On my drive to the train station I saw a crow who’d just swooped down to test the corpse of rabbit roadkill. It must’ve been fresh, the crow looked pensive as if any minute many more birds would descend and take it away. That’s all I saw, I drove on.

The train station was cold, I had a jacket on. I was happy to get into the warmth. As the train hurtled northwards, I noticed the dull grey of morning give way to blazing sunshine. Summer had arrived.

Timid dawn lumbers

the mists shimmer burn away

summer’s love blazes

Two Haiku’s today, but my first of the year which cites summer.

May 20th

Crow seedlings scattered

black barbs resonate apart

sad cuts of midnight

I so wanted to see bluebells, but they’ve come and gone. May’s beautiful carpet had been rolled up. I’ll have to wait till next spring now. There were a few here and there, their hanging heads tired, but they were waning, dying. I didn’t realise but the UK has 75% of the worlds bluebell population. We’re privileged to have them. It’s a shame it rained so much earlier in the month, when they would have made the woodland floor blue.

I did see that the Hawthorn’s were blooming though. They cover the hillsides. The little stunted tough little trees, crouched tight to the ground, to stop them being swept off by raging winds.

Further on in the walk, we came to “our tree”. It’s a funny tree, so skinny, yet perched precariously right on the hill crest, where the winds would assault it from all sides. On my drives I often look for it in the distance and get a feeling of security and warmth when I catch it’s crooked thin shape in my sight. Today “our tree” had what appeared to be scratch / claw marks in its trunk. I got excited. An ABC? (Alien Big Cat)? Are these the claw marks of a large wild cat running free in the hills, fields and woods? I should have used my free hand to act as a scale, but the scratch marks were approximately 1.5 inches apart. Of course it must have a rational explanation, but it’s fun to imagine. I’m going back tomorrow night, so will try to remember a tape measure!

But today’s Haiku was about the three Crow feathers I found. They were perfect. So inky, with that metallic black glaze reflecting off them. I took them home. I like to look at them. I admire and envy crows.

May 19th

 

rooks float black net cast

silent waves on the hillside

a distant caress

Going to Pegsdon Hills tomorrow.

May 18th

Snail in the wasteland

Slick streamlined track over stones

Silver in his wake

If the snail had hair it would have been swept back as he accelerated to get into the safety of a bush. I did consider lifting it and putting it somewhere where it could munch on some foliage, but then I remembered the Prime Directive. I was living my life like Star Trek that day, I couldn’t intervene.

May 17th

Testosterone talk

Boobies football and cursing

Hi-viz and muscles

A silly Haiku today, I was in our work canteen, lots of hi-viz jackets. The thing is, my Haiku does not represent reality in the slightest. The atmosphere was serene, there are ladies who work in the warehouse too. It was just my projection of some 1970s vision of what I think large factories or warehouses must’ve been like.

Farting, swearing and looking at busty ladies in topless calendars whilst drinking tea with three sugars. I watched too many “gritty” sitcoms back in the day seemingly. Although I can’t think of one which specifically had such uncomplicated characters.

I’m a bit of a soft pawed irreverent nobhead really, says more about me!

May 16th

 

Far from home I long

for a familiar face

and she obliges

Stuck in Warrington for work. Nice sunset from my hotel room window. I took a pic. And below the pic is a beautiful song by Jon Redfern, called “I love the sun”. Deeply melancholy, to me it talks of passing seasons and lost loved ones, how the sun can revive you in times of sadness and reflection. Much lovelier words than my Haiku.

“I love the sun, I love the sun
It shines down on everyone
I count the days, I count the days
Winter comes and daylight fades
Where are you now, where are you now
Friends I've seen go to the clouds”

May 15th

 

Run, wind whipped beast flayed

the cold weight of rain burdens

Feral teeth laid bare

It was bloody cold playing football, I was soaked. My hands were shaking. This sounds really whingey I’m sure, but it shows heavy rain chills the bones more than cold air. I’ve played in the winter, but it didn’t rain. Just goes to show, you have to keep moving, keep your core temperature up! Don’t stop!

And we lost. I actually played better when I got cold though, cold also focuses the mind, made me more impulsive in my decision making, brings out the primitive part of the brain when the body feels threatened (and made me less lazy).

I’m an animal. haha.

May 14th

 

The riders gallop

hooves pale death billow poison

a blind man’s visions

I found this song by Aphrodite’s Child. The Greek super group containing both Demis Roussos and the composer Vangelis, prior to them going their separate ways and becoming successful in their own right.

They wrote a crazy concept about about the book of revelation called 666. I believe it was written whilst under the influence of several illegal substances and by the look of their wonderfully portly physiques… cake.

What a tune! Totally crazy! I love the whole pidgin English going down in the lyrics too. And what a guitar solo by Silver Koulloris too. The whole arrangement / song makes me laugh and rock out at the same time! Brilliant and mad!  \m/ \m/ raaaaarrrr!

May 13th

 

Shorn in a night storm

dying limbs span the river

willow flesh weeping

May 12th

Dirty old river

centuries of silt tumbles

under new metal

A photo taken from the Tate Modern members balcony, me and Sal went to the Yayoi Kusama exhibition. Watched the feral pigeons and the feral people below them from our vantage point. And yeah, there’s a little tribute to a Ray Davies Kinks lyric in my Haiku.

May 11th

Pious knight wanders

soul marked for the dance of death

harvest checked for love

Watched the Seventh Seal, what a great movie. So much depth. The war weary religious knight and his cynical wise squire return from the crusades to find a Sweden ravaged by plague. He dwells over the existence of God, he wants to see his wife one more time, after a ten year absence. And of course he strikes that deal with death, through the noble game of chess.

Such iconic imagery, much spoofed over the years. But what acting and direction by Ingemar Bergman. Max Von Sydow and especially Gunnar Björnstrand as the squire, are the stand out performers. A masterpiece.

(images of the Seventh Seal from the film4 website)

May 10th

 

In the bluebell wood

enchanted laughter echoes

May lovers embrace

I had to run to the station this morning, worried I’ll get a fine, as I left my car there overnight. I caught a glimpse of bluebells in someone’s wild flower meadow/garden. The year is flying by. Need to get back to Pegsdon Hills, this time of year is magical, a carpet of blue in the woods kissing the edge of the hills.

May 9th

Sleeping filament

Lampada Annuale

no one saw it glow

Went to the Tate Modern after work, getting the most out of my membership! I sat in the members room for a bit with a scone and some tea and did a bit of work on my laptop, then I had a wander.

The Alighiero Boetti exhibition is great fun and very thought provoking. Like many people, I kind of was drawn to the Lampada Annuale (annual lamp) which only switches itself on randomly for 11 seconds in any one year. So naturally you are drawn to it, hoping to be bestowed the wonderful gift of light.

For an online experience of the same sense of expectancy, check this fun website!

I didn’t dwell for long, but I’m sure some people wait ages. Patience is a virtue. I strolled away with a wry smile.

May 8th

Boy in wolf’s clothing

a son of truth and anger

where the wild things are

A great man died. I feel very sad. Rest in Peace Maurice Sendak.

“I have nothing now but praise for my life. I’m not unhappy. I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can’t stop them. They leave me and I love them more.... What I dread is the isolation.... There are so many beautiful things in the world which I will have to leave when I die, but I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready.”

(images from the guardian and harper collins)

May 7th

Immersed feel nothing

Light flickered mind extinguished

tainted time ticking 

What a waste of a day.

May 6th

winter’s brittle wreath

the dead holly bite toothless

disintegrating

I saw the Christmas wreath Debbie made in a green recycle bag, the one made with twined willow and holly leaf and berry, so colourful and lovely, the one she put on our front door. Well, it’s had it basically. Old and brittle and brown.

Under seven months till Christmas!

May 5th

Dockleaf and nettle

bane and balm, riverside sprung

nestled together

Walked to the train station via the moors yesterday, that was a mistake, got mud all over my jeans and was skidding everywhere. What was nice though is that the edges of the River Flit are now completely green with nettles and (and what I think are!) dock leaves. It’s funny how the old remedy for being stung by a nettle usually grows close by.

The rain has helped the flora make busy with growth.

I took a photo of a particularly green clump. I take no responsibility as to my accuracy, there may not be any dockleaf in this photo, in fact there may not be any nettles either! If so, here is a photo of some green planty shit…

May 4th

Anaesthesia

outbursts of melancholy

children in the sky

I entered a science fiction flash fiction competition, I submitted the story yesterday. As nothing happened today (I stayed at home and worked), I thought it would be fun to include some of the themes of this story as my Haiku.

May 3rd

Cold doped lizard drags

itself into the sunshine

basking on a rock

It was sunny in Warrington! After a drive involving horrible deep puddles, I left Milton Keynes station in more showers, only to be surprised that the weather up north, although a little bit chilly, was sunny.

Having been starved of sun these last few weeks, I walked to the edge of the platform, in the open air, without the old metal shed casting a shadow over me. I stood with my back to the sun, to catch as much warmth as I could. It fed me with joy.

(warrington central station, I love this old ironwork)

May 2nd

The friendly eye dulled

Goddess lashes framed by blood

A slow gutter crawl

It just seemed meaningless, the cows head being slowly devoured by flies. Sure it was probably going to be dumped anyway, picked up from an abattoir somewhere.

Damien Hirst says nothing to me.

(me and the Bossman went to his private view at the Tate Modern)

May 1st

Vision in the spray

eggshell clouds crack, vapour fades

Apollo’s favour

It had been bucketing it down all day. As I was driving home after playing football (I scored a pearler, curled right into the top corner) the clouds parted to reveal a radiant sun. Shame it was so late in the day, but at least the Sun god blessed us.