The sneering wind
flays the sycamore tree of limp, weak-willed branches
and their lichen tapestries - pearl and straw-yellow
while I stand watching,
a voyeur of death and violence
the wind doesn't want me to watch
howls at me to turn away
howls of shame
howls of embarrassment
howls of guilt
It ramps things up
tearing down an elderly fence
that's been grey and withered for a while
But it doesn't shock me.
I’m still standing. Still watching.
Thanks for taking the time to read my poem. Did you like it? Feel free to leave a comment below or any constructive criticism.
Seasons greetings! It’s here everybody! Christmas Eve! Can you believe it? Only twenty-four days ago I started the Haiku Advent Calendar as a challenge to myself and a gift to you all. We’ve made it!!!
I’m going to put on the tree lights and settle down for a day of relaxation and maybe some baking.
But first, I’ll leave you with this haiku…
Santa packs his sleigh, ready to warp across earth; The best gift is LOVE.
Thanks for joining me and for the kind words during the Haiku Advent Calendar. If you want to read the previous Haikus, click the specific day below:
The Christmas episode of the Eat The Storms Poetry Podcast has been released. On it, you’ll hear me (!!!) reading four of my poems with a wintry and festive feel. I am so grateful that Damien (the host with the most!) invited me back to read. I love Christmas and the last time I appeared on the podcast was my podcasting debut, my reading live debut and was so much fun.
Some of the poems I’ve read you’ll find on Paul Writes Poems already; the others will be released between now and Christmas along with my daily Haiku Advent Calendar so keep your eyes peeled.
The last time I had the opportunity to appear on Eat The Storms, the other readers were amazing. The same is said for my fellow poets appearing on the Christmas episode, but, this time Damien has ramped things up for the festivities so it’s bursting at the seams like a vintage stocking.
I have released a poem this month already, you can find the piece of nostalgia by clicking, ‘At Christmas‘.
It was a massive honour and privilege to take part, especially with the calibre of the other poets reading. I may have been was awestruck! (I must apologise for the sore throat though.)
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.