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Richard Walker

Fishing

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Edited by Richard Walker, Wednesday, 8 Apr 2015, 02:01

From its rock a cormorant

Watched the fishermen.

Thieves, thieves.

 

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Richard Walker

Dinosaur poets TM

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what is/are Poets

Can they die and emerge again

like Dinosaurians

?

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Richard Walker

Bullet marks

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So have you seen

Bullet marks on a wall?

And did it make you flinch?

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Richard Walker

A memory

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Do you remember in Greece,

we had that wobbly table,

and the waiter brought a melon rind?

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Richard Walker

No brainer

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Not a poem, or even a riddle.

What came first, the brain or the senses?

 

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Richard Walker

New rain Haiku

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The smell of new rain.

A time for reflection.

And no umbrellas please.

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Richard Walker

Raindrops in the stream

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Raindrops in the stream.

I'm with my father again

Trying to see a fish.

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Richard Walker

What's a poem

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Hands clasped behind me

I thought: a poem

Is a kind of snapshot.

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Richard Walker

Haiku in a gale

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In this gale!

Who's that crawling across the road?

A plastic bag.

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Richard Walker

a question of owls

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Edited by Richard Walker, Tuesday, 7 Apr 2015, 00:58

I walked home

Surrounded by the clamour of owls.

Always the same question.

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Richard Walker

Butterfly

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It's warm in my house.

A butterfly woke up.

How to save it?

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Richard Walker

Good News Haiku

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Edited by Richard Walker, Sunday, 3 May 2015, 01:00

Mr Lion, good news.

You got 99% of the popular vote. What more do you want?

The species of the others.

 

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Richard Walker

Morning

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Edited by Richard Walker, Saturday, 28 Mar 2015, 01:53

The rooster doesn't want

To wake you. He's just singing

With the other birds.

 

 

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Richard Walker

Night Haiku

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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.

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Richard Walker

Sunup haiku

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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.

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Richard Walker

First Spring HaIku

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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.

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Richard Walker

Herb haiku

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Edited by Richard Walker, Monday, 23 Mar 2015, 00:30

The herbs

Form a miniature garden.

I feel honored.

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Richard Walker

International Poetry Day

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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.

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Richard Walker

Calendar leaves haiku

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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.

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Richard Walker

Oliver Sacks

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Neurologist and author Oliver Sacks has let it be known that he is dying.

For many years he has been an inspiration to me, ever since I read The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat.

His writing combines relentless scientific curiosity with a deep empathy towards the patients he comes into contact with. This has earned him a world-wide correspondence and the many case histories people have sent him over the years make his books fascinating almost beyond belief.

In the final chapter of The Mind's Eye, he gives a courageous personal account of suffering from a retinal tumor. At the time it was successfully removed. Unfortunately it must have left behind a trace which has since spread.

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Richard Walker

The millpond

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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.

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Richard Walker

Riddle Haiku

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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.

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Richard Walker

New blog post

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Edited by Richard Walker, Sunday, 22 Feb 2015, 15:43

Recently the Belgian Artist Frederik De Wilde exhibited a square blacker than any human being has ever seen before. Blackboards look black to us but actually reflect as much as 10% of the light falling on them. De Wilde's black square reflects 0.01% - one thousand times less.

There is an impressive image here. New Scientist magazine have described it as an attempt to paint nothing.

The work is a reflection of the celebrated Black Square that the Russian Malevich showed in St Petersburg in 1915. The image above is an image of Malevich's work that I found in Wikimedia Commons. This painting had huge influence at the time and I believe at the end of his life the artist had it hanging in his bedroom. Today it is in a fragile state (with the black foreground crazing to reveal the white below), and in another echo from the past De Wilde's NanoBlck-Sqr #1, which uses carbon nanotubes on a white frame, is so delicate that you are only permitted to view it under supervision.

But neither Malevich nor De Wilde have captured what nothing looks like. The blind have a better understanding, which you can share. What do you see round the back of your head? You've no eyes there, so you just saw (or didn't) nothing. And it's not a bit like black.

This might seem trivial or frivolous, but it's not at all. I have a big blind spot (nearly half my vision) and people ask me frequently what I see there. They expect it must be a black patch. But it's not: it's nothing. That's very hard to explain. And impossible to paint. It wouldn't be an empty canvas, a sort of visual equivalent of John Cage's composition 4'33''. And it wouldn't be a black square. It would have to not exist.

 

 

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Richard Walker

Sonnet and Haiku

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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 behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon 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 day
As 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 fire
That 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.
 
It's autumn now
Smell of burning leaves. Winter follows
Hold tight, hold tight.
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Richard Walker

Warm in Bed?

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Edited by Richard Walker, Saturday, 7 Feb 2015, 01:54

Everything else being equal, will you be warmest

a) Sleeping on the floor?

b) Sleeping on a mattress on the floor?

c) Sleeping on a mattress on a bed?

I've tried all three. I think most will agree b) beats a). But what about c) versus b)?

I felt warmer, and explained this by the air between the bottom of the mattress and the floor being a thermal layer.

However a friend disagrees (strongly). In their view the air gap between mattress and floor makes no difference. Any warmth that percolates down from my body to the air layer below will simply flow out the sides, and so only the mattress sits between me and the temperature of the floor.

Who is right in this heated debate? Can anyone comment?

 

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