Year's end —
If I survive a few more of them
If I survive a few more of them
I'll have worn a rut in the lane.
Personal Blogs
The Indescribable Beauty of Snails
Sunday, 1 Nov 2015, 01:13
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If you wish to learn
The indescribable beauty of snails
Just cast your eyes humbly down.
Moon Talk
Monday, 28 Sept 2015, 00:20
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Under this moon
How can I disagree?
You're such a good friend Autumn.
What's a poem
Wednesday, 1 Apr 2015, 00:34
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Hands clasped behind me
I thought: a poem
Is a kind of snapshot.
Night Haiku
Wednesday, 25 Mar 2015, 03:55
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Edited by Richard Walker, Friday, 27 Mar 2015, 01:28
Getting up in the night.
That loose floorboard.
Groans like a ghost.
Sunup haiku
Wednesday, 25 Mar 2015, 03:32
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Edited by Richard Walker, Thursday, 26 Mar 2015, 00:46
What a daily grind!
Getting the sun out of bed.
All together birds.
First Spring HaIku
Wednesday, 25 Mar 2015, 00:24
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Edited by Richard Walker, Wednesday, 25 Mar 2015, 00:27
A frosty night in spring.
The rabbits don't seem cold.
Like me they hope.
Herb haiku
Saturday, 21 Mar 2015, 02:51
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Edited by Richard Walker, Monday, 23 Mar 2015, 00:30
The herbs
Form a miniature garden.
I feel honored.
International Poetry Day
Saturday, 21 Mar 2015, 01:26
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Edited by Richard Walker, Saturday, 21 Mar 2015, 02:53
Today 21 March is International Poetry Day.
So here's one of my favorite poems. I often think about it. Its author is Issa and the date it was written is March 1818.
A pheasant calls out
As someone blind
Crawls across the bridge.
Credit
Haiku adapted from Chris Drake's translation.
Calendar leaves haiku
Wednesday, 11 Mar 2015, 00:27
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Edited by Richard Walker, Thursday, 12 Mar 2015, 01:42
A movie cliche.
The wind takes the calendar leaves.
We still cry though.
The millpond
Tuesday, 3 Mar 2015, 00:23
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Edited by Richard Walker, Tuesday, 3 Mar 2015, 00:29
Watching lights in the millpond.
My hands frozen to the rail.
No movement.
Riddle Haiku
Sunday, 1 Mar 2015, 01:44
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Edited by Richard Walker, Sunday, 1 Mar 2015, 01:50
Blown off in autumn.
Missed in winter snow.
Blossom. No need now.
Sonnet and Haiku
Tuesday, 10 Feb 2015, 02:26
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Edited by Richard Walker, Tuesday, 10 Feb 2015, 02:28
One of the verse forms I most admire is the sonnet, and another is the haiku. There are many differences but both display a classic structure and an economy of expression.
A favorite sonnet of mine is Shakespeare 73.
That time of year thou mayst in me beholdWhen yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hangUpon those boughs which shake against the cold,Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such dayAs after sunset fadeth in the west,Which by and by black night doth take away,Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fireThat on the ashes of his youth doth lie,As the death-bed whereon it must expire,Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by. This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
I tried to compress this into a haiku. Here is my attempt.
Haiku without a season
Monday, 29 Dec 2014, 01:55
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Edited by Richard Walker, Monday, 5 Jan 2015, 01:24
You knew I was lying.
Cried the liveforeverbird.
You knew. You knew.
Haiku for winter
Monday, 29 Dec 2014, 01:34
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Edited by Richard Walker, Monday, 29 Dec 2014, 01:36
In summer the old man puts up a brave face.
Easier in winter.
New mist
Sunday, 7 Sept 2014, 01:11
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Edited by Richard Walker, Sunday, 7 Sept 2014, 01:12
Wading through tiny mist
Suddenly it's autumn
Yesterday summer.
Rain haiku
Wednesday, 18 June 2014, 00:21
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Edited by Richard Walker, Wednesday, 18 June 2014, 00:22
It's easy now
Living with a bunch of ghosts
Except when it rains.
haiku
Sunday, 11 Apr 2010, 02:59
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Edited by Richard Walker, Wednesday, 14 Apr 2010, 00:39
Spring
First blossom petals,
On my remaining hair.
Spring again!
The Catcher in the Rye
Sunday, 31 Jan 2010, 01:50
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Edited by Richard Walker, Sunday, 31 Jan 2010, 01:50
J.D. Salinger has died.
The immortal novel he wrote way back (1960?), The Catcher in the Rye, is a magic book, probably the best or second best American novel of the 20-th century. He wrote some other stuff - short stories - and they are good too.
Something I remember from these stories is an attachment to haiku, I think a famous one by Issa is there somewhere
Don't swat it!
The fly is rubbing
Its hands and legs
Salinger then gave up publishing any work and famously became an extreme recluse, refusing all publicity and repulsing interviews.
That doesn't seem so surprising or unreasonable; he seems to have been drawn towards a contemplative life, and had an interest in Zen.
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