Warm summer evening;
music, company, pleasure –
until that last glass.
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I went to a wonderful summer evening concert on a perfect July evening at Warwick Castle with friends a few weeks ago, but allowed my wine glass to be filled one time too many……(It’s only the second time in my life I’ve gone a little too far, and this time it was at least semi-accidental).
Red geraniums,
architectural ironwork,
and mute lace curtains.
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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.
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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.
This April morning,
my kitchen window is filled
with cherry blossom.
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Spring is here.
Contrails in blue sky,
crossing the green line dance of
quivering bamboo.
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I planted bamboo outside our back door about 15 years ago. It’s now very tall – a wonderful plant.
Watching a snowflake
against March skies, a robin
takes wing, with a twig.
That red summer rose,
stem parting moistened lips;
your eyes wide, hold me.
—————
I’m feeling romantic.
A falling raindrop,
surprising a rose petal,
becomes velvet tears.
In between seasons,
wind searching between the trees;
the birds have gone south.
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Tasting smoke curling
around my tongue – wild cherries;
I must linger here.
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I enjoy wine, but despite drinking it (in moderation, more or less) for 30 years, I can never remember the names of wines I’ve enjoyed. Last night I enjoyed a glass or two of this Rioja, bought at random, and now I have another glass beside me: I may also have found a solution to my memory problem.
Posted on Poets United.
poetry diary 