Where is the time going? It’s day eight of the Haiku Advent Calendar and I can’t believe it’s Wednesday already.
Today’s haiku was written in annoyance that no matter how hard I try I am sometimes (actually oftentimes) clumsy such as breakfast today.
So without further ado…
My Nordic jumper
is stained with clementine juice;
sleet flurries outside.
Have you had any mishaps so far this December? Let me know.
Take It Easy
Paul
Welcome to day 6 of the Haiku Advent Calendar, I hope you have been enjoying my efforts so far.
I’ve been receiving some lovely comments on twitter (@PaulWritesPoems); I have really appreciate the support.
Today’s Haiku is…
Nearby chimneys
wheeze grey in the winter wind;
candlelit reading.
Remember, come back tomorrow for another festive/winter haiku. Thanks again for the support.
Take It Easy
Paul
Welcome back to my haiku advent calendar. I hope you’re enjoying it so far.
If it’s your first day here, you can catch up on Day 1 & 2 by clicking here; Day 1 or Day 2.
Now for today’s haiku…
The robin chorus
can be heard by the hedgerow;
scents of spruce indoors.
Thanks for taking the time to join me today, have a great day and don’t forget to come back tomorrow for Saturday’s haiku.
Take It Easy
Paul
He sits with sadness in his eyes,
mercury-blue and moist,
no light shines on his face,
apart from the moon,
who cups his cheek,
from her perch in the sky,
she understands melancholy,
but he ignores her offer of help,
turning away from her slender illuminating fingers,
instead he pushes the pain down,
burying with the rest of his misery,
he shouldn’t show emotion or cry,
that’s not what men do,
how many times does he need to be told.
He takes a breath,
agitating the mercury with woollen sleeves,
he sweeps away the tears,
then paints a watercolour happiness over his face,
just in time, for his wife has returned to him,
and when she asks how he is,
in reply, with all his strength,
he let’s a tear fall and tells her how he feels.
Thanks for taking the time to read this poem. I am big supporter of men’s mental health and this deals with men being able to open up to their partners.
Take It Easy,
Paul
(image courtesy of Nik Shuliahin on unsplash)
The worst kind of thief there is,
is the one who steals another’s words
then speaks them silver-lipped
and serpent-tongued
or writes them with crooked finger
and poisoned pen
without appreciating their weight
or realising their value
only seeing inked shapes on paper
not the skill it took in crafting those shapes
so when you’re caught
and our expressions of love,hope,pain & hurt
are reclaimed by us
the ones who have enough courage
to share our story with the world
I hope you are wordless, you are voiceless
a blank piece of paper blowing in the wind.
This poem was written following an issue where a few people were being plagiarised. The last straw was when war poetry was stolen from the pens of others , their name displayed as the original.
This is my feeling towards people who steal the words of others and say they are their own.
Take It Easy
Paul
On Sunday (Halloween), I entered Black Bough Poetry’s #BBMicro2 contest.
The premise and rules were to create an original 4-line poem about Autumn or Halloween, post it on twitter using the above hashtag.
There was a panel of judges working throughout the day, all of whom are really talented poets.
A shortlist was announced on Monday and that’s when I got the first shock! I had made the shortlist! I couldn’t believe it as I’d read some of the other entries and I thought they were outstanding.
On Tuesday evening, the winners were announced. I came in 3rd. I will be celebrating this achievement at the weekend with my wife. It hasn’t really sunk in because I never imagined I’d get anywhere near the shortlist or finalist. It has given me a lot more self-belief in my writing! Hard work pays off.
You can see all the winners on by visiting @blackboughpoems on twitter. Or visit their website (blackboughpoems.com) to view the current books and anthologies they have for sale. Their Christmas/Winter edition has just been released and has some stunning artwork alongside incredible poetry.
Take It Easy,
Paul
My palms are worn leather
handling hammer and chisel
the sinew in my forearms is taut
carrying marble creates strength
my neck stands tired yet agile
from always looking upwards
but my days of crafting pedestals is over
so I’ll wait for my body to reset
and return to an even keel
the cost of marble is too much
once it’s been etched
it can’t be returned
even though I probably value the material
more than the people I’ve placed upon it
I’ll craft myself an armchair
to rest and read on
and watch the pedestals crumble.
—————
Thanks for taking the time to read my poem. If you want to read more, feel free to browse the site.
Take It Easy,
Paul
We sat under a steady autumn sky
watching the tiny acts of rebellion
as young clouds broke away from old
grey from white, white from grey
and the sun threw firecrackers
at the surface of the sea
silent, straw-gold crackling amid the calm
we stole glances from each other
as the tender harbour breeze
kisses our cheeks turning us blush-pink
the terns and gulls played tag
swooping too close to earth
that the seagrass stole some feathers
and – as nature misbehaved all around us
I softly gripped your hand
knowing you’d never let me go
because I was falling in love with you even more
and this falling will go on forever
like the marble-blue horizon
– under the steady
autumn
sky.
Thanks for taking time to read my poem, I hope you enjoyed it. While you’re here, why not check some of my other work out.
Take It Easy
Paul
I write in the margins
because I used to live there
an oddity, an anomaly, a correction
wasting valuable space on the page
until the margins became
too tight to breathe in
too tight to survive in
so I leaked into the rest of the page
sharing my words with others
finding friendship and love.
I write in the margins
because the margins made me.
———
Thanks for taking time to read my poem. I hope you enjoyed. Why not take time to read some of my other pieces?
Take It Easy
Paul
I stopped watching the news
after the third week of decimating death
and morbid press briefings
it had become statistically gratuitous
instead, I watched
the playing fields
opposite the front door
start to overgrow
welcoming back the wild things –
discarded council lawns
no longer littered by
kids from the secondary school
and couples walking their dogs –
I observed the radiant whimsy
in a family of deer
frivolous in the pre-dawn haze
dancing among the tall grass
rose-gold fur in soft focus
impressive were the foxes
drifting around the wildflower verges
almost hidden in the dusky milk-light
gorging on the rodents
next-doors cat couldn’t catch
I chuckled at
lopping chestnut-hares darting
among the hedgerow
scaring the bullfinches
from the
rosehips and brambles
until now
I never really appreciated
the nurturing noises of nature
notably the cresting and chirruping birdsong
against the percussive branches
of council-planted beech trees
ever since opening the door
to the nurture of nature
– life feels gratuitous.
Thanks for taking the time to read this poem, written about something positive that happened during the peak of Corona in the UK. I hope you enjoyed. As always,feel free to leave a comment I love reading and replying.
Have A Great Day,
Paul
Paul Writes Poems 