H  A  I  K  U     S  P  I  R  I  T
Haiku Spirit Issue #12 



DECEMBER 1997

 


Winter drizzle ~
Even the monkey
Needs a raincoat


Basho (trans Lucien Stryk)





On my black robe
grey and listless
flies of atumn


Ken Jones




Tonight
that's how it is ~
the sound of a leaf
scraping along


Jim Norton




First leaves falling ~
a new school year
has started today




So heavy
to carry home
this year's first bag of coal


Gilles Fabre




Rain-drops on the web
all that remains in Autumn
the spider away


Dermot O'Brien




Reek of damp woodsmoke
I furl my umbrella ~
they're in!


hay bales
dumped across the golden stubble
lengthening shadows


Ken Jones




Behind the north
wall
frost lies all day
dogwoods redden


Jim Norton




late on Labor Day
a man mows grass
where he rents


LeRoy Gorman





Glendalough Haiku Retreat

September 1997




The cry of a deer
spanning mountain and valley
drifts of rain




Waiting as light fades
two sheep
settle to our presence


Reminded of Issa
this cold mountain hut




Clouded stars ~
and in deeper darkness
the swollen river




Water in the pipes
chatter in the kitchen
the old house comes to life




morning shave ~
more and more like my dad
grin at the mirror




Rushing water
fills the bowl
of earth and sky




Abandoned churches:
I want to put a roof on,
chant aloud again




Rusty nail through old mine timber
who was it
drove it home?




Every rill
finding its own way
to the lake




out of the forest
two deer
just as we look back




Ken Jones, Jim Norton, Helen Robinson, Paul Seto, Jenny Cairns, Philip Keogh, Gilles Fabre and Sean
O'Connor took part in the retreat. These are some of their poems.




Endlessly washing
the water on the lake-shore
driven by the wind




A long way inland
a flock of gulls in a field
facing towards the sea


Dermot O'Brien




In the dark corner I cleared yesterday a white flower


Ernest J Berry




Scoving in West Cork with Ken Jones


Famine cabin
its apple tree
still blooming




Stones I've placed
to mark the only safe descent
the mist thickens




Suddenly
the lough
each islet
in its place




Between the Atlantic
and all that rock and bog
dozing by the fire


(In Cork dialect "to scove" is to wander about the land)




ELEGIES FOR JOAN


We live in the world as if in the sky




Just like a dream
a bubble ~ August waning moon
fills heart & sky


(25/08/97)




Spider on mothers
bedside table ~ I put him
out in the garden


(30/08/97)




Skylark ascending
as I scatter mothers ashes
around the roses


(3/09/97)




Robins autumn song ~
how can he know the sadness
that lays on my heart


(3/09/97)




Clouds piling up ~
feels like the end of summer
as I mow the lawns


(7/09/97)




Mother
transformed into a rose ~
our garden the hearts desire




Bill Wyatt's mother Joan Darling Hudson died suddenly on Monday 25 August.
She was aged 77 and very sprightly




The headstone
alive with flies




Sitting the long retreat
geese at dawn
geese at sundown




Ram lambs
pressed against the mountain gate
one more evening


Ken Jones




scattering your ashes ~
keeping back
some for the houseplants


Helen Robinson




Lengthening
the snail's shadow
draws out the sun




Few cars today:
between each
what was before


Jim Norton




willow leaves falling ~
never
where expected




this fire
is like other fires ~
but this winter's first


Gilles Fabre




Hot day
the soles of my
feet
on cold sand


Sean O'Connor



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