October 5th

 

eager wind pursues

the huddled ones listening

to the scythe’s rattle

the beating rain and

rumble of the angry clouds

makes the timber wince

anticipating

the October Country guests

…this is their season

 

As it’s October, I’m dipping in and out of this fabulous collection of Ray Bradbury short stories. He died this year of course, but his body of work speaks for itself. The blurb for the book evocatively captures the essence of it:

“…where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnight stays. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country where people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty paths sound like rain…”

My little Haiku conglomerate is my humble tribute to him.

April 22nd

Gaze turns to the oak

eater of storms and vivid

in the solar glare

 

The oak tree visible from our back window is impressive, that distinctive shape, the arc of branches, that sturdy trunk, unyielding. It’s anytime going to be sprouting green, at the moment it still hints at winter, with it’s barren appearance. It does not detract from how magnificent it looks. Especially when the sun bathes it in light and the clouds behind it are black and threatening. Only an oak can hold it’s own when the weather makes war with itself.

Here is a pic of it I took earlier this evening.

April 17th

When I die I want

my body to feed the earth

trees born inside me

I was thinking today, how cremation seems such a waste. I’d like to be buried so what nutrients I contained be returned to the earth, seeds germinating in what was the shell of my body. Obviously only when I’m dead, I’d be quite frightened if I was buried alive.

I think a combination of reading Murakami, the rainy cold change in the weather and listening to Mogwai in the car has contributed to these thoughts. But it’s not negative in the slightest, not an obsession with death, just an observation. Tomorrow I might think about Houmous or South London. Could be anything.

March 4th

A curtain of spray,

Bloated heavy sleet collides,

Snowflakes unfulfilled.

 

It snowed, nearly.

February 13th

Boulder dragged uphill,

Granite legs thump, relentless,

Misery drizzle.

 

I hate running when I’m unfit and out of shape, but you’ve got to start somewhere after being inactive for so long. At least I could listen to the new Mark Lanegan album whilst I did it.

January 26th

Heavy lids, aching,

Fitful sleep, dark dreams, dark clouds,

Keep writing, thinking.

 

I felt and feel rather ill today. Had only a few hours sleep, interrupted by sore throat and a raging thirst. Was meant to go up to Yorkshire for work, but I couldn’t possibly do it. So I worked from home. A long old day too. This morning, I could feel the cold boring into me, my brain in some sort of fuzzy cocoon, sheltered and distant.

The dark clouds just added to this feeling of melancholy. I was in a bit of a daze, but there is a kind of perverse enjoyment in this feeling too. I feel creative and different when I’m ill. Sadness brings out the best in my writing. Shame my creative attention was distracted by my day job, this was a day I could have happily curled up in bed with a laptop and did a bit of stream of consciousness. Sadly, despite the big build up, today’s Haiku isn’t the best. Never mind. It’s not even the end of the first month and I’m struggling. But working long hours with only a laptop screen and small window to look out of (and Loose Women on ITV when I have my lunch) doesn’t give me much inspiration.

I hope I’m better tomorrow, I must’ve had 5000 calories today. Need fresh air and exercise. And sleep, blessed sleep.

January 3rd

 

Eucalyptus bows,

Wind whipped and subservient,

Waylaid, flayed, cloudburst.

 

The wind was really flying this morning. And the rain and hail was falling down in sheets. It was a good day to work from home. Looked miserable out there. Poor commuters, first day back for a lot of them!

The view of the Eucalyptus tree from our upstairs window, I’m always impressed by how much punishment it can take and how much flexibility there is in its movement.