‘Haiku 2012 #1’

galactic crosshairs
fire in a frigid hole
no sure repentance

©copyright dfbarker 2011

*first of a few of these, I may stray from the ‘accepted’.

Distraction

The thing that’s killing me
is that which first caught my ancestor’s eye.
Until then, I was content to roam the far horizon,

to be that quivering digit in the African plain,
strolling and musing, simply taking my time
when it didn’t matter; crouching at pools,

fishing for food, picking up things which lay around.
You could say it was like a kind of Eden,
for which I didn’t care or mistrust.

But then one day – I can’t recall exactly when –
something sparked, like a piece of flint in the sun;
sharp, fetching blood and an idea.

The rest you know in its outlines;
when the shaping of some tool
turned the wise one into a fool.

*Taken from poetry collection ‘anonymous lines’

Morning List

Aromas of snuffed out candles
A new bar of soap
The fix of fresh black coffee
A warm fruit teacake
smothered in melting butter

First sight and smell
of the salty sea

Apparition

Standing by the patio doors,
an early sun was shining through
I thought I heard a gentle tap
no – I didn’t expect to see you

But I asked you in, made us some tea
and we sat in that warm rear room
Said you’d been away, started a book
Just didn’t think I’d see you so soon

When the sun went in I looked again
Somehow you weren’t quite the same
You hadn’t touched the cake or your tea
and now I couldn’t recall your name

So I took the pots through, confused
Nearly went outside for some air –
it was then I began to remember
but when I got back you weren’t there

Yggdrasil

When I see the ash I always pause
to admire its strong, primitive grace,
its carboniferous-like leaves,

those impressions I might find
in a piece of coal.
And when I stand underneath,

placing my palm on the grooved bark,
I think of Woden
who hung himself here in a tempest,

like a questioning proto-Christ,
intent on finding answers. The runes.
I rest my spine against the bole,

asking the energy to flow through
as I gaze up into the blue,
dappled through countless greens.

But I find no runes strewn hereabouts,
no answers at all,
merely a branch snapped off in a storm.

I will take it home to carve and to care,
before setting out once more
to taste this electric air.