poetry diary

I rhyme to see myself, to set the darkness echoing. (Seamus Heaney, from Personal Helicon)

Month: June, 2013

The unsaid goodbye

Rising to the surface of an empty lake,
a single leaf
like an unsaid goodbye,
too late for autumn.

Ripple-ringed dark waters,
light-lost, strive
to recall sun-splitting orange-gold
days of October.

Reflected forest, broken
by the troubled surface, promises,
touching leaf edge;
that gravity and time will turn again.

But I recall you smiling as we swam,
and memories dissolve,
like autumn leaves,
in the rain.


For Hj.

Posted on dVerse


Red geraniums,
architectural ironwork,
and mute lace curtains.


Nineteenth century buildings near Hyde Park, London. I went to Wimbledon yesterday, which was wonderful(!). This haiku was written over breakfast, looking across the road at a typical London townhouse from the 1800s. The sun is shining. I enjoyed trying to work ‘architectural ironwork’  into a haiku.


Fallen rose petals;
their warm wet scent embracing
lovers sensing rain.


I have a pergola with a white climbing rose in my garden. It is beautiful, and it has rained this week. The rest is imagination.

Posted on Poets United.