Seasons, Places, Feelings

bonsai tree

This section, ‘Seasons, Places, Feelings’, brings us perhaps closest to the heart of the Great Master. There are many here that explore in varied and complex ways the main haiku themes of time, place and being.

Places

	Northland Northumbria fine The days sunny except for Hai kumulus clouds Newcastle pub crawl. In Alnwick the Old Cross, called The Dirty Bottles Three dirty bottles Stand in a well-sealed window Placed by a dead man Pembrokeshire Black cows barely seen As darkness settles soft on Cathedral meadows Dark little chapel I enter alone—for her I light a candle A NW1 Odyssey Choose at Camden Town (Northern Line) which way to go —Where to have come from? Primrose Hill at dusk Not enough wind for the kites Nor scope in the zoo October twilight On Primrose hill—men juggling Wine bottles empty Joggers and jugglers Striving to keep their weights down And to keep them up You’ve autumn gloves on— If we’re still meeting in spring Perhaps we’ll hold hands Another NW1 Odyssey [2012] See the note in appendix 3 William Blake, mystic, Met the spiritual sun Here—on Primrose Hill Revolution times— Britain’s ancient bards seeking Truth on Primrose Hill Ancient relics here? Ages buried on the Hill— Now I see a Shard People throng around Viewing high rise horizons— Imagine—lone hill Twelve years have now passed— Do memories inspire me? Or spirit of place? Elsewhere Peak’s mistful valleys ‘Dry’ stone walls all dripping wet —Sheep close to the sky This place is holy Dun Î, Iona’s mountain; Banshee wail softly Nivelles See the note in appendix 3 Ten to six—Sunday Abbey bells suddenly toll Echoing the square round Tyres rub the cobbles Pigeons swoop over the cafe One more beer to drink Here in green Brabant Sun—and stillness far from home Recalling passed times Not far to the ducks Half way across the still pond Making three small wakes A hollow in time— Slowly I stretch out to rest Quickly—it closes Europe The rain turns to snow The Salzburg climate unfolds A Christmas sermon I sit at my place Eating the Tagesmenu Nothing much has changed Sunset over Chartres— Serenity or fervour? How to confront Life? Sachsenstein— I know—it has the feel of Galadriel’s hill See the note in appendix 3 Fireflies light the sky Then the atmosphere changes —Storm over Garda The ice on the lake Grows dim, the snow deep and crisp Yields warm to my feet Volcanic snow-rim Icelandic millennium Only place to be Further Gentility past: Raffles Hotel, Singapore, Backed by skyscrapers
The Zen Garden
	Seek peace and wisdom Bookshop—or Eastern Garden? Perhaps water, stones Press trigger, heart skips Gardening with power tools Frog parts everywhere See the note in appendix 3 When mowing the lawn I wonder—will the daisies Ever forgive me? Beneath the flight path Small things keep falling from planes Leaves on the green lawn Magnolia bare Lawn around is brown, old leaves Spring buds already formed In my night garden I find a glow-worm glimmers —Unexpected gem
Lifecycle
	Childhood See the note in appendix 3 A child stares agog At the object of wonder— Fire-engine passing Jurassic Park watched Angie holding my finger Dragon myths are us Young Johnnie downloads A Tyrannosaurus Rex —Just one killer bite Our childhood dream ends For one moment all is clear For C R and Pooh A good place to be We understand each other An enchanted place Our childhood dream ends Now we must think as grown-ups— Which is more real? Mary—long blonde plaits First whisper—in the playground —And then the bell rings We walk the wet shore. Are our sandcastles more lost Than the kids we were? Middle Age The middle-aged fox No longer runs so quickly —And suffers hare loss Win five kiloquid! Do I buy ten purple suits Or up my pension? Later ‘My wife’ he tells me ‘Forgets things… grows forgetful’ Five times he tells me Gran dies Christmas Eve Leaves it all to charity —No good will this year! Friends, days, many flown Long grey evening of pain —How long till the night?
Relationships
	If the time should come You want to dance on my grave Please wear a short skirt —Imagining you… Standing alone in the wind —Wearing red undies Prose is built of bricks Songs and poems—bells ringing Your words are soft gongs You. A world away— When I say your name out loud —As near as breathing I’d love to play you But you are a fine violin —I have a drumstick The simple pink room Love’s open heart lies beating The simple pink room
Female Icons
	She’s a sex goddess But vulnerable, mortal— Marilyn Monroe Walkabout stunning— Agutter skinny-dipping In a billabong Fame is the prize for A calculating woman —Carol Vorderman Thelma and Louise Rocky Horror Picture Show —Susan Sarandon Men were most impressed By her, her feat in the air Miss Amy Johnson
Here be Dragons
	Don’t mess with dragons Because you’re nice and crunchy And good with ketchup Dragons buy ketchup Using Tesco’s internet It’s a dragon-drop To not meet dragons Open all your doors with care Avoid the attic It helps to cheer one Finding attic fantasies While real days drag-on Summer. Dragon sleeps, Awakes—hot breath on the thatch: Autumn-attic fire Man found with drag.on Turns out to be transvestite Mister or a myth? I am pursued by Fifty dragons! Only one Thing to do. Wake up… …Forty nine dissolve But—curled up on the duvet… Oh—hello Tibbles The Bugblatter Beast That lives on the planet Traal Makes a tourist meal The dragon takes flight Soaring into open hearts On wings of harpsong
Thoughts and Feelings
	I bounce like Tigger But I know I am Eeyore In Tigger’s clothing She strokes my hair and Draws her hands down my body —Shiatsu massage I sit at my desk Alone with the Internet A techno-hermit A still afternoon I watch the sea-fog slowly Advance toward me I’m late coming home I pass the pond past twilight The bats split the air Fearful symmetry— Mind-forests of night-tygers Loom in the blakeness Tall trees catch the wind The sound of rushing water Confuses the ear White birds fly shining Specks of sunshine against cloud Promising rainbows Had Noah waited: Olive branches carried by The Raven of Peace Waiting for a bus In my dream—at last it comes —It’s a number 12 Beer drips on the flags Fitfully lit by sunlight This is existence The moon on tip-toes Steps silently, night-shirt clad, Over roofs of pines Vast fields of sunlight Buttercups take so little Somehow it’s enough Rich man lives alone Has his own world of sadness Grieves a dead goldfish Short rain in the wood Steam rises from the bracken And then it is gone As one the two swans And the gathering darkness Take flight from the lake The waves lap the shore As for millennia past. Which were here before?

Seasons
	Spring-sharp yellow edge As bright as March-cold sunlight The rays of coltsfoot Bluebells in the wood In dense massed ranks surround me Like beckoning ghosts Cotswold Evening Sun sets around my shoulders I drive at the moon Haydn’s ‘The Seasons’ Is playing. I have to leave In early summer Leaves sunlit dapple The apple-tree’s first small fruit Green Hopes of July Rain beats on the roof Drums on the muffled garden Summer percussion Lying on my back On a summer night cliff-top I see all heaven Walk summer night lanes Water trickles by the path Wind sways an inn-sign It is not easy A summery summary —Long, hot, August days The dance of midges Complex orbits in the sun A small universe Bright white cottages Sunlit against purple sky: Thunderstorm postlude The sun lies to rest The day’s heat turns to soft mist The lake’s eyes grow dim Manningtree morning The sun is hot on my face The wind blows icy A fallen conker Lies before me this morning Herald of Autumn He stoops to conker Carefully—for he fears that The Fall is coming It is now Autumn I realise this tonight Mashing potatoes Autumn wind shakes leaves Sun-dappled on distant trees —Moving pointillism Seeking a lost cat Stare up many autumn trees —Sifting many leaves Leaves are turning now Crisply edged with brown on green— Summer’s catafalque Chrysanthemums bloom Autumn days are shorter now Woodsmoke in the air The days grow short now It is dusk when I get home Not long to first frost Early Winter night Rain beats against my window Lulling me to sleep Autumn dahlia Wan in the street light. Then frost —Morning memory All this autumn rain Fills the hills—till they overflow —Unexpected spring! Our strong brown river Comes to town. Here, sat upstairs We watch swans overflow October’s leaving Patterns on the paving stones —Impossible jigsaw Sky’s blue, then rain’s down A depression’s coming on —Now wind takes a fence Early Winter night Rain beats against my window Chrysanthemums glow
Solace and Inspiration
	Present suffering— Solace and inspiration From impermanence For the troubled mind Solace and inspiration Seem unlikely hopes To one in despair Solace and inspiration May be unforeseen Flashes of insight— Solace and inspiration To haiku writers
Dramatic Art
	Hal-Kus See the note in appendix 3 Two score English dead They said 10 kilofrogs slain In war, truth dies first The dauphin’s insult Cries Hal ‘No peace in our time’ The balls keep bouncing Hal before Harfleur Has to attend to his breaches First makes rousing speech Sad they cut the text About France gone to thistles —War’s devastation Plastic Haiku Painting of roses The petals easy to catch The leaves difficult (not an original thought, but translated into Haiku) A plain wicker chair Van Gogh’s chattels, pipe and hat Haiku in thick paint The bombs are silent As you survey Guernica You just feel the screams Greek pottery: girl Craves fertility, waters Her phallus garden
A Musical 17
	Original Instruments Players of plucked strings Down Renaissance instruments —Lutany afoot Lutany afoot! Base, vile, highly strung—a truce We consort it out Lutany afoot! Needs effective weaponry Use a theorbo Instruments fretted String twanged, snapped; silent serpent —A broken consort More Music Herr Anton Bruckner He done great—adagios Motor to my soul Sense in a mad world Fantasia on a Theme By Thomas Tallis On a rainy day, Just the thing to cheer you up: ‘Riders to the sea’. Ceiling-hung mushrooms Intercept heaven-bound sounds: Bach at Albert Hall Sounds from the sitar Resonate in my belly: Evening raga All the world’s lost winds Gather in the bamboo grove— Shakuhachi flute My world view entwines Both Tristan and Isolde And Noggin the Nog ‘Richard, please don’t fret If you’re stuck on Parsifal Just give us a Ring’ Frau Bach waits in bed. JS, before joining her, Checks his organ works Last Night of the Proms ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ sung By the Elgar louts Welsh hill-farmers choir Think the best Handel chorus Is ‘All we like sheep’ With the Beatles Isle of Wight day trip Yellow submarine no shows —A ticket to Ryde The holes in Blackburn Fill the Albert Hall: so now —What’s left in Blackburn?

Seasons, Places, Feelings

Places

Northland

Pembrokeshire

A NW1 Odyssey

Another NW1 Odyssey [2012]

Elsewhere

Nivelles

Europe

Further

The Zen Garden

Lifecycle

Childhood

Middle Age

Later

Relationships

Female Icons

Here be Dragons

Thoughts and Feelings

Seasons

Solace and Inspiration

Dramatic Art

Hal-Kus

Plastic Haiku

A Musical 17

Original Instruments

More Music

With the Beatles