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Haiku Spirit Issue #12 



Winter drizzle ~
Even the monkey
Needs a raincoat

Basho (trans Lucien Stryk)

On my black robe
grey and listless
flies of atumn

Ken Jones

that's how it is ~
the sound of a leaf
scraping along

Jim Norton

First leaves falling ~
a new school year
has started today

So heavy
to carry home
this year's first bag of coal

Gilles Fabre

Rain-drops on the web
all that remains in Autumn
the spider away

Dermot O'Brien

Reek of damp woodsmoke
I furl my umbrella ~
they're in!

hay bales
dumped across the golden stubble
lengthening shadows

Ken Jones

Behind the north
frost lies all day
dogwoods redden

Jim Norton

late on Labor Day
a man mows grass
where he rents

LeRoy Gorman

Glendalough Haiku Retreat

September 1997

The cry of a deer
spanning mountain and valley
drifts of rain

Waiting as light fades
two sheep
settle to our presence

Reminded of Issa
this cold mountain hut

Clouded stars ~
and in deeper darkness
the swollen river

Water in the pipes
chatter in the kitchen
the old house comes to life

morning shave ~
more and more like my dad
grin at the mirror

Rushing water
fills the bowl
of earth and sky

Abandoned churches:
I want to put a roof on,
chant aloud again

Rusty nail through old mine timber
who was it
drove it home?

Every rill
finding its own way
to the lake

out of the forest
two deer
just as we look back

Ken Jones, Jim Norton, Helen Robinson, Paul Seto, Jenny Cairns, Philip Keogh, Gilles Fabre and Sean
O'Connor took part in the retreat. These are some of their poems.

Endlessly washing
the water on the lake-shore
driven by the wind

A long way inland
a flock of gulls in a field
facing towards the sea

Dermot O'Brien

In the dark corner I cleared yesterday a white flower

Ernest J Berry

Scoving in West Cork with Ken Jones

Famine cabin
its apple tree
still blooming

Stones I've placed
to mark the only safe descent
the mist thickens

the lough
each islet
in its place

Between the Atlantic
and all that rock and bog
dozing by the fire

(In Cork dialect "to scove" is to wander about the land)


We live in the world as if in the sky

Just like a dream
a bubble ~ August waning moon
fills heart & sky


Spider on mothers
bedside table ~ I put him
out in the garden


Skylark ascending
as I scatter mothers ashes
around the roses


Robins autumn song ~
how can he know the sadness
that lays on my heart


Clouds piling up ~
feels like the end of summer
as I mow the lawns


transformed into a rose ~
our garden the hearts desire

Bill Wyatt's mother Joan Darling Hudson died suddenly on Monday 25 August.
She was aged 77 and very sprightly

The headstone
alive with flies

Sitting the long retreat
geese at dawn
geese at sundown

Ram lambs
pressed against the mountain gate
one more evening

Ken Jones

scattering your ashes ~
keeping back
some for the houseplants

Helen Robinson

the snail's shadow
draws out the sun

Few cars today:
between each
what was before

Jim Norton

willow leaves falling ~
where expected

this fire
is like other fires ~
but this winter's first

Gilles Fabre

Hot day
the soles of my
on cold sand

Sean O'Connor

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