Saturday, December 22, 2007

Cluster Haiku

A drop of oil
paints bright siren rainbows
on the canvas of the streets.

Dewdrops, diamonds
scattered at my feet
slicing every step.

A drop of blood
blossoms on the crazy paving
in empty cities.

One bead of sweat
gathers momentum
in preparation for a great flood.

One teardrop slides
from the deep reservoir
I struggle to keep inside.

The first soft drop of rain
caresses my fear
promising a fresh start.

I know, I know. Can't do seasonal and that bishop has got me marked as an 'atheist fundamentalist' so there's no hope is there? Anyway, Welcome to our new readers in Thailand!

Thursday, December 20, 2007


Though everywhere we search in vain
We find their sullen armies crawl,
The wall must fall.
Though cruel citadels rise up,
Grow powerful and tall,
Their walls must fall.
See even solid concrete screams
A wild graffiti call,
This wall must fall.
And every rock and ocean
Ripples with just one call,
The wall must fall.
And while this voice seems still so pitiful and small,
The wall must fall,
When all our voices blend as one,
Welsh lilt, New World drawl,
The wall must fall.
One land, one justice,
Out of the rubble of a broken wall.

CHECK OUT THE LINK TO 'YOUTUBE' with the previous poem and you'll find out where this one came from.

Thursday, December 13, 2007


For my benefit Mr. Kite
came out to play today,
tumbling, like a giddy clown
out of a cold sky
tantalizing territorial crows
with one flick of the tail,
leaving them flailing
at an empty patch of blue,
where just a fraction before,
he had hung out in air,
while I had watched his show,

dumb as stone, no sound
ringing in my ears,
stripped of all my pride,
feet firmly anchored on the ground,
eyes filling with tears.

Thirty years ago, my friend Colin and I would go off in search of the elusive Red KIte. At that time there were only 30 breeding pairs in Wales. Now, thanks to a brilliant campaign to protect these magnificent birds from farmers who poisoned and shot them they are widespread and I can even enjoy them from my own front garden in Glais. Welcome to my Iranian readers!

Sunday, December 02, 2007

The animals have spoken ....

The hens all slaughtered themselves!
I heard it first on Fox News,
Hot off the press,
Penned by Lunchtime O’Booze.

Devotees of Asian cuisine,
Whales queue off the Japanese coast,
Amber grist to the mill, all
In a frenzy to add to their sushi on toast.

No longer hurling themselves from cliffs,
Lemmings have learnt to have fun,
Achieving the same heights of pleasure
From daily abuse in The Sun.

The more cultured creatures,
Who shun puns and rhymes,
Turn for chastisement
To the wise words of The Times.

When I was a puppy, I used to feel sick,
Bellyful – Dandelion and Burdock.
Strange how I now suffer the exact same reaction
On hearing that name - Rupert Murdoch.

Feeling very frivolous. It's Sunday. Haven't had time to read the papers. Oh joy!