Wednesday, July 27, 2011

sheep haiku

foggy evening
sheep on the hills
climb into clouds


An austere life
of poverty and prayer
weeps from wet
moss grown granite.
Ancient hymns
echo church ruins
circling gravestones
of long forgotten souls.

Hooded cloaks
drape dark forests
casting eerie shadows
on a quivering lake.
The evening mist
wanders the hills
sighs down the valley
as dusk descends
on a buried past

Summer Beach, Greystones - A Diamond Day

Sifting warm sand
through my fingers
lustrous fine grains
glitter my palm.
Soothed by
the soft powdery touch,
I sit for a while
under the rocks,
my bare feet
swirl patterns in the sand
as I watch
a beach life unfold.

Bustling mothers
set up home
on plaid blankets
colourful beach bags
spilling with togs and towels
buckets, spades
strewn all around,
a picnic stored carefully
under a shady umbrella,
children gathered
skip giddy with glee
slapping sunscreen
on lily white limbs.

My gaze drifts to
little pink sisters,
chubby faces
alight with imagination.
Their nimble bodies
straggle the sand,
wrapped in a world
of castles and dreams
studding the mounds
with pearly shells
whispering stories
of princes and princesses.

At the water’s edge
long legs prancing
tiptoeing warmth
into an icy sea,
Young lads
splash and play,
high jumping the waves.
A ball punched high in the air,
hands outstretched
grappling madly,
they plunge
in an explosion
of salty laughter.

Strolling the beach
bare feet on warm sand,
I bask for a moment
beneath a honey sun
on a diamond afternoon

wet tyres

ashen clouds

shroud the mountain

wet tyres hiss and spray

Greystones marina

new marina

not a boat in sight

ghost harbour

summer beach

summer beach

a hive of activity

sweet taste of honey

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Midsummer in Greystones

Morning yawns through my window,
curtains dance to the swish of the sea.
A lemon field sleeps under the mountains
plum purple with perfumed heather.

Hedgerows pink with blackberry blossoms
toppled with milky trumpets of bindweed.
Pine cones scatter my walk to the beach
the air fused with damp seaweed.

Church bells chime down the hillside,
The village stirs under a honeysuckle sky.
Life peeps from geranium doorways
as the blush of a new day blooms.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Scene through an empty photo frame

In my photo frame, a woodland blooms
where birds swoop strawberry fields.

Rain drizzles from bleached gull’s wings
showering snowdrops with sweetness.

A sweating sun sheds a silken coat
hanging golden sheets across the sky.

Sunflowers nod over a wailing wall
grinning at greenfly on dewy roses.

Chiffon butterflies trek the mountains
pulling on a string of glassy beads.

Children giggle squeezing juicy stars
sliding down lemon segment waves.

A yawning sun sets on raven hair,
as stars spill into a quilted night.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011


cut palm

the rich red

of summer roses


roosting time


swap trees


thundery noon

infused with insects

tea in the garden

Thursday, July 7, 2011

fly haiku

fly circles

whizzing the lampshade

toes twitch nervously

bluebottle haiku

bluebottle bolts

zings against the window

lawnmower whirrs

starry night haiku

starry night

glimpsing the moon

in his eyes

balloon haiku

air heavy

with thunder

child waves a balloon

dole haiku

signing on the dole

his body leaden

walking the hill home

anxiety haiku


cowers corners of my mind

lightening cracks the sky

River of Red Runs Deep

Inspired by the many war crimes where innocent people were killed by monsters who got caught up in their power and destroyed millions of lives, the dead and the living where I believe a river of blood will forever bleed from generation to generation. The pain does not just go away, it is the living that have to deal with that pain and the atrocities cannot be forgotten.

I found
a woodland trail.
It bleeds down to a river
gurgling and spluttering,
swirling great boulders
splattering them scarlet
with lusting carnage,
a red rage of war.

parcels of naked people
wrapped in autumn leaves
are hurled by the wind,
rolling down the track.
Huddled together,
they curl up by the bank
waiting for the current
that pulls them under,
sucking them crimson
draining them dry.

Hair and bone
mesh with the river,
forever thirsting
for the blood
extracted from
millions of faceless people.

6 July 2011 MMC ©

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

train haiku

light drizzle

slants a satin sky

train whistles past

Rhubarb haiku published by

cutting back rhubarb,

cupped in the stems

a blackbirds nest


after a deluge

a rainbow arches the sea

gold bracelets jingle

Seagulls haiku

showery day

the rocks white

with seagulls