Pure Joy – A Haiku

To escape would be

just such a wonderful thing.

To escape; pure joy.

Disillusioned – A Haiku

Disillusioned, yes,

With the world and work and life.

Amok and amiss.

You, The Sensual Subject

You taste like every meal I have ever enjoyed;

you feel like cashmere, or wool, or silk.

You smell like flowers on the first day of spring;

you look like diamonds, like art, like the sun.

You sound like a symphony of the most wonderful composition;

are every, every, every sense.

The Beautiful Liars

It is not necessary to speak the truth,

all of the time,

as long as the lies you tell are filled with love,

and the truths you tell are elegant.

Bite – A Haiku

Ev’ry time you bite

your lip, when you smile, I feel,

feel it on my skin.

Night Skies – A Haiku

Just one hand is all

I need, to count the stars which

shine bright above me.

In a Heartbeat

Even if your heart

Does not beat

as everyone else’s does.

It still

beats.

Beautifully.

Beaches

The sand between your toes should tell you more about yourself than you care to realise.

You may be worn away, but you are glistening, you are soft, you are beautiful.

Seventy percent of all we have and the sun which cares to glance upon us,

have all the love in the world for your grains; cannot help but touch.

So too, for everyone around us.

To have your sand between my toes; such a beautiful thing.

Perfection – A Haiku

You are nowhere near,

not even close. Yet closer,

closer still than us.

With Purpose – A Haiku

I’ve absolutely

no idea just what it is

that I’m doing here.

Just a Year – A Haiku

Four seasons, frankly,

are already not enough.

Please, don’t waste them, love.

This Flower – Ode to a Sister

It is, i’m sure, not my job to hand you over to another.

It’s not my place to say, ‘absolutely; onward’.

But for some time I have watched you grow a little taller; watched you smile a little wider.

For some time I have heard you laugh a little louder; sing a little longer.

You, my darling, have always been a flower.

Some time ago, though, you were perhaps a little wilted.

Some time ago, more of your petals than we would care to mention were tinted black.

Some time ago, you were beautiful, and perfect, and absolutely ignorant to it all.

But now, not for now but forever, you are verdant.

For now you are flourishing, are growing, are alive.

You have dug your roots into the ground and, accidentally perhaps, tangled your roots with the other flowers in the garden.

They call that, I believe, a flower arrangement.

Whatever they call it, I believe, is surely not enough.

I have waited, much as you have, for you to catch the sun.

And here you are, my darling, leaning towards its light.

I would pick you every day, would that I could.

But, much like the pennies we pick up for luck, flowers are better given away.

It is, I’m sure, not my job to hand you over to another, beautiful as you are.

Happier though, I could not be, to see you planted alongside someone else.

For, two flowers have never looked so bright, so grand, so impressive, as you and yours do.

And so, we three, and all others who are lucky enough to watch your seasons come and go, today and forever,

will pour water, open windows, and shed light.

You do not need it of course, but we will.

It is, i’m sure, not my job to hand you over to another.

It’s not my place to say, ‘absolutely; onward’.

But no sense of pride, no enjoyment of colours and beauty, will ever quite reach today’s.

Because now you laugh a little louder; sing a little longer.

So, simply, ‘absolutely; onward’.

You, Are

You are not as simple as you might think.

Not so one-dimensional.

You are not as plain as you believe.

Not so nondescript.

You are spirals, curves and scribbles.

You are growing, complicated, interesting.

You, my darling, are infinite.

You are whatever we are waiting for after every dot, dot, dot.

You, my darling, Are…

Advice for Alice – A Haiku

My best advice, dear,

is: go down the rabbit hole.

Go, stay, adventure.

My Dear

I remember walking into that room,

warm and comforting as it was.

I was but youth and simplicity. I was but calm.

To wear a smile is a wonderful thing;

to do so like a puppet whose emotion is naught but fiction is yet more so.

I was happy, indeed.

You were but aged soul and complication. A thing of beauty.

To feel an emotion unexpected is exciting;

the thing, the excitement, in that moment, is unexpected in itself.

I remember you being, oftentimes, quite dark; a little solemn.

Or, rather, a lot.

I remember it, certainly, when I walked into that room.

A beautiful dress remembering that you had always been a canvas;

hair so kept, so perfectly pinned;

your eyes as blue as ever, shining.

You were floating, suspended;

cold against the warmth of the room; warm, now, against the cold in your heart.

You, my dear, were always dark, indeed.

But there, floating, suspended –

there I had never seen you look so beautiful; hanging there.

Pearls, this time, not upon your neck; you were simply floating, hanging.

I remember walking into that room.

You had never looked so peaceful.

Take Care, Be Kind. [A Senseless Rambling After a Significant Hiatus]

We once were grand enough to tell friends, strangers, to

‘Take Care; Be Kind’.

The wisdom of the seventy-seven, though, is not wisdom at all.

It is a simple thing, you see, to give love; to be loved.

Grand as we were, we could not presume to know better, nor to do so.

Years on, though –

Years on and we still take the greatest care, do the kindest things.

It is a simple thing, and we were grander then.

My love.

Empty; Here – A Haiku

Never truer words

Than those of hell’s vacancy

And the devils’ place.

Heart – A Haiku

It’s worth just noting,

All the things you need to know

About me are Here.

Ghost Writers

I think we right about things which we have no idea about because if we wrote about our own lives we would realise how sad or unexciting or secret our lives are.

There is some unbearable feeling to telling our own story when others’ are so much better.

We right about things we don’t know because it is much less painful to imagine than to address.

As writers of fiction we become fiction ourselves because we pretend a wisdom which is not really there.

Black and white and inky ghosts.

Jack

Sell your soul to something you believe in.

Climb up to where the air is thinnest.

Do not be afraid of life’s giants.

You are taller,

Braver,

Stronger than they.

You are no myth,

You are a tale.

Defeat them, little one,

You are taller than they.

Do not be afraid,

Sell your soul to something you believe in.

Closed

With eyes, closed, I have forgotten the details of your face.

With diary, closed, I have forgotten the passage of time.

With lips, closed, I have forgotten the sound of your voice.

Sing – A Haiku

Sing ev’ry feeling,

Each line a moment in time,

Ev’ry note a heart beat.

Serif

Everything simple in you is black ink.

Everything pure is white canvas.

 

Every quirk is an aspect of serif.

Every fact about you is a full stop.

Everything new is a question mark.

 

Everything about you is a letter.

Everything about you is a font.

Everything about you is a word.

Infinite One

You are forever in motion;

you will never stop.

Infinity lasts longer with every beat of your heart.

The atoms which are your concrete and your bricks are the most beautiful;

there is nothing architectural here,

only artistic.

We would all be wise to remember the colour of your eyes,

blue as the sea and beating against my shores every time you wake in the morning.

When someone tells you

‘no’

‘you’ll never’

‘don’t bother’,

we would be wise to remember that ‘no’ is just a two letter word,

and ‘yes’ is of three, like ‘win’ and ‘now’ and can’;

like ‘I’ and

‘love’ and

‘you’.

I know that with every day you will become more you;

more and more

and the most you that you have ever been.

Then you will be infinite.

Platinum – A Haiku

Your touch is silver.

The sound of your voice is gold.

You precious metal.

Words – A Haiku

Don’t be so foolish.

You are a thousand words, love.

Such perfect words, love

Your Fault – A Haiku

Did you smile too much?

Inviting. To blame. Unclean.

Your fault. Of course not.

Mark – A Haiku

Shame is a black mark.

An excitement of my guilt.

I love and hate it.

Question – A Haiku

You are confusion.

A beautiful question mark.

A difficulty.

Check – A Haiku

You simply check up

And my heart skips a little.

The simple things; You.