Ghastly Haiku

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Thank you to the One Hundred(s)

Dear One Hundred Friend(s)
This haiku is just for you
Thank you very much

It’s actually quite difficult keeping track of follower numbers as the WordPress counter doesn’t appear to register non-WordPress account holders who follow by email. It occurred to me that I may have already passed the One Hundred mark but no matter. What is important is the support and encouragement we offer each other on a daily basis, both as writers and fellow human beings, often treading the same precarious path between light and dark, day and night, right and wrong.

So for the purpose of this little milestone, I dedicate the above haiku to two people:

Firstly, my Twitter friend @jillcdalin – I used to have a Twitter account but never used it much. A couple of months ago I decided to delete it and start again and since then have found some wonderfully talented and kind writing friends. I didn’t know what to expect of myself when I rejoined. I’m not one for self-publicising excessively, preferring in part to share my writing rather than only offering it up to journals and competitions. But Twitter, with its limited word count, offers the perfect habitat for haiku and micropoetry and the perfect conditions to spark exchanges between Twitter friends. Long may that continue. If you fancy a twitter come find me @ColinHillWriter

Secondly, to Eunoia Review who hit the follow button at about the same time and by coincidence today published a poem by my good friend and poet Paul Waring

Thank you both and thank you to the previous 99 or so followers of my humble blog. I raise a glass of herbal tea and drink a toast to you all. Here’s to the next One Hundred!

Best wishes,

Colin.

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attic space

the attic space
is a crawling space

with spider nest homes
and house fly homes

there are empty boxes
filled up boxes

of odds and ends
that never end

some carpet pieces
lost jigsaw pieces

kids toys for the next
generations

keepsakes from the past
generations

why am I here?
well that’s not so clear

I see the time has flown
the bulb has blown

now I’m all alone
yes I’m all alone

in this dark debris
of  memories

Aunt Mable’s Table

every last staple
in my tiny stapler
appears always
to be unstable
and drops on the table
that was given me
by my late Aunt Mable
who abhorred waste
and I fear is now
turning in her grave
at the thought of
all these wasted staples
on her old table
where there’s not mushroom
for old dad jokes
and stationary veg

 

(if you liked this
why not click the link below
and read the one before
or look to the right
and join me on Twitter;)

#amwriting

write a poem ✍️
come back to it
leave it a bit longer ⏰
sleep on it 😴
read and tweak
fiddle with it 🎻
double check and spellcheck
reformat ᴉʇ 🤔
shortenthelines
l  e  n  g  t  h  e  n    i  t
add some italics
get bold with it
feeling quite happy 😀
underline it
spots a repeated word
oh f*** it !! 😭

Wood for the Trees

life can become overwhelming
for no obvious rhyme or reason
purpose and definition go astray

with no direction to call home
you lose yourself amongst wolves
and stray into darkened corners

but there are hands reaching out
and voices with reassuring words
waiting for your reappearance

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dictum tweet

on the top of tall trees strutted the bird
with a song and name long since heard
for man had ceased to roam this world
his forgotten words in leaves unstirred
when from its throat the bird unfurled
a dictum tweet  unleashed  and  hurled
I AM THE ONE, THE TRUE, HOLY BIRD!

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