Suited and booted I was. Top of my game and driving a fast car. Selling my soul for the price of making it. Big bucks and sadness on tap. It wasn't supposed to be like this at the top. The brochure looked much nicer than the reality. Slave to the machine. Walking away to follow … Continue reading Leaping
Category: Haibun
Whispers of Walden
warm orange early morning sun wraps itself around one side of the birch trees who bathe blissfully in it's embrace outside my cabin. Birdsong floats ethereally across the sky and the leaves whisper a soft response. The land is alive and I too. Inner music sings my soul awake and my hearts peels back another … Continue reading Whispers of Walden
embrace
deep golden sun sinks behind the strand of Douglas Fir. a sheen glades the grass sweeping before me towards the distinct red hill. all around is sky offering a warm embrace. my steps are measured. it is hard to walk when one's heart weighs so heavy a weight each footstep draws a tear earthwards. a … Continue reading embrace
ha-ha-ha-haibun
"Do you know the piano's on my foot?" I asked my daughter. "Sorry" she said completely unawares of the pun door I had opened for her to step through. At 13 she had lots still to learn. You had to laugh though right? Pushing and pulling a piano from the jeep across the car park … Continue reading ha-ha-ha-haibun
free(fall)
You don't walk out of a marriage unless you got faith. In yourself. In the soul mate who called you. I had faith oozing out of my pores. There was no question that this was the right thing to do. It was the most difficult decision I ever made telling my wife and children I … Continue reading free(fall)
red tin, grey sky
Winter's grey back drop offered mystical comfort. Stillness. There at the edges of this world, I sensed another. There was a peace hanging over the loch, like a misty prayer flag. Whisper of wind. Then silence. This is a day full of presence. Mine and nature's. A kiss blown into my heart by the beauty … Continue reading red tin, grey sky
incy wincy writer
'It looks like a spider crawled through ink and then onto your page, Paul.' I do believe this was not offered as a positive critique of my already burgeoning artistic temperament and technique by my class teacher Mrs Kendrick, but is it how I received it. I thought this was so Cool. My words look … Continue reading incy wincy writer
the watcher
Clouds obscure the sky and the Winter moon is only noticeable because of the chill in my heart. It is hard to describe. Hard as the lack of feeling in the cold moon. Hard as the ice that falls at night and freezes the world. Imagine an echo in a room so vast that you … Continue reading the watcher
ephemeral
My plans are ice sculptures. Beautiful to behold and full of magic. Then they melt but their promise does not. They dissemble with a ripple that wobbles it's way slowly and surely to all the corners of infinity, touching every possibility along the way. That way I cease to put energy into worry about the … Continue reading ephemeral
after the deluge
I sat in the grove of this October beech cathedral, my heart bursting with autumnal spirit-song. Sometimes nature just does that too me. Around me stood those giants, old, gentle and wise. They had seen it all and yet even they were in awe of the river. Millions of tiny droplets leaping from stone to … Continue reading after the deluge