ladies' slippers
flower profusely
greenhouse brambles

spikes
of purple buddleia
among the raspberries

Two tanka for my mother

1/
in wooden armchair
my mother no longer knits
slip, stitch and pass
the piece she made wholeheartedly
was raising a wayward son

2/
the meaning of getting old
my mother told me about
hair loss
I realize how hard it is
to say an early goodbye

next door's chickens
make a morning presence
his dogs bark

yellow roses
fade into watercolours
cherries ripen

Soft dawn

dawn softly creeping
through bedroom window
awaking
with a smile
this vacation morning

lavender spikes
perfume through rain-washed air
garden mint

raspberries
picked over by blackbirds
and the odd guest

birdsong
among the dripping leaves
and tiger lilies

next-door's chickens
serenade my ablutions
hungry dogs

SOME FRESH HAIKU | Ram Krishna Singh | Article/Story/Poem/Essay | Red Room

SOME FRESH HAIKU | Ram Krishna Singh | Article/Story/Poem/Essay | Red Room

an aeroplane
fades into the distance
the hiss of rain

tipping the rose
to smell  -
cascade of rainwater

long iris leaves
floating in the pond
silent frog

raindrops
hanging off the leaves
microcosms

an orange geum
rescued from a dump
flowers profusely

there is nothing

of the pigeon - but a

garden of grey feathers

a chill wind
the cat stares outside
hoping for sunshine

Robin-run-the-hedge
tangles up the hyssop
convolvulus