November 16th

from Poseidon’s purse

they drag the big eyed harvest

gasping on hot wharfs

the omniscient

God so fickle and angry

buries them with waves

I popped into the British Museum, I haven’t been there in years, it is an astonishing place, putting aside the dubious origins of how some of the antiquities ended up there, it is a magnificent collection.

This mosaic (Roman, approx 100AD) really caught my eye. The pieces of stone were so tiny, it allowed for fantastic detail. N.b – I know I use the Greek “Poseidon” as opposed to “Neptune”, but I prefer using the Greek names

October 3rd

 

in the dark before

dawn the fish people watch us

from shingle shorelines

drip drip as they walk

gasps from their little used lungs

cold blood translucent

green hued gills gently

billow at their scaly necks

as they plod inland

I’m writing a story about the Fish People. I’m quite enjoying it. Here’s a triple Haiku horror about them.

August 8th

a leaping fish breaks

through the ceiling of heaven

and gasps at his world

Was at Box End Lake near Bedford. Beautiful warm evening. Watched Deb and Neil swim, then just watched the stillness of the lake at sunset when they disappeared to the far end. I noticed fish were leaping out of the water, twisting in mid air then flopping back in.

I know, I know, more lazy anthropomorphism. I’m giving a fish a concept of self, world and desire for adventure in this Haiku, but have you ever interviewed a fish? You might be surprised.

However, a more plausible explanation for this behaviour is they might have been trying to escape from the alpha hunter in the lake, big bruising Pike live in it. Mind your toes!

My pic from Box End.

June 9th

The marshland echoes

with the screams of the gull mob

a heron’s fish lost

We took an evening stroll along the beach, inland, behind the beach, over the high shingle slope, between Aldeburgh and Thorpeness is a wetland. We saw a heron, it had what looked like a fish in its beak. The gulls mustered and harried the hunter in mid air.

February 26th

 

Blade thin herons wait,

Secreted in the reed beds,

Striking at silver.

 

On the way back from Arsenal smashing Spurs 5-2, I sat on the train looking out of the window as I often do. Between Harpenden and Luton Airport Parkway station, the train passes over what looks like an old English country scene, apart from any built up area. With a hamlet and millhouse alongside a meandering lazy river, even lazier tributaries feeding it. It was in one of these tributaries I saw two herons, standing still, amongst the reeds. I like Herons, there’s something fragile and elegant about them. And that beak built for fishing makes them look slightly prehistoric.

(Grey heron pic from RSPB website)

January 14th

 

We went for a walk in the Moors earlier, even though it was mid-afternoon there was still a covering of frost and some of the ditches and tributaries of the River Flit were totally frozen fast. The big pond on Flitton Moor was almost entirely frozen over bar a little ice hole in the far corner, from which some ducks flew away from, as we’d inadvertently disturbed them. Otherwise the ice looked quite thick as someone had seemingly lobbed a log onto it and it hadn’t broken the surface. Not sure if it was quite ready for ice skating however!

 

Torpid under ice,

Lurking carp’s cold eye observes,

Meek warmth reflected.

 

Pic taken earlier today, The Pond, Flitton Moor. Ice bound.