Chernobyl
twenty years on
tongues still clicking

cold spring day
the bees
still sluggish

at the mobile phone

the child’s face 

lit up

crows dripping

from the autumnal tree

the farmer’s gun

the runner

sweating

swigs from a bottle 

in the gym

rich people who don’t work

working out

apple blossom

it makes a change

from cherry blossom

from the summerhouse

just the clink

of ice cubes

laburnum

yellow danger

from the blue sky

offering me her seat

the young woman

pats me on the shoulder

Published (2019) in Failed Haiku Volume 4, Issue 43, page 11

kids in pyjamas

uncles with cameras

red..sleek..and..narrow..nosed

the Azuma* arrives

*I was in the first Azuma train to arrive at Hull Paragon station

Ramadan

the smell of ketones

on her breath

Vesak day*
water flowing
at the Banyan tree
****

Vesak day
caged captives
take to the trees

*- Veask day is Buddha's birthday when water is poured under banyan trees (the tree under which Buddha meditated) and birds, animals and fish are set free.

grave stones

just visible

above the undergrowth

early morning 

sparrowhawk soaring

above his breakfast 

a pigeon 

with only one leg

hopping mad

clay pigeon shooting 

a duck flies over...

I think about it

the TV aerial 

serving no purpose

except for a pigeon 

The Wasteland

wasted

on me

evening fruit bats

the dark thoughts

return

the cattle truck

leaving behind

a trail of piss

****

following

the unseen

cattle truck

visa office queue

going nowhere

Published (2019) in Failed Haiku Volume 4, Issue 42, page 32

abandoned factory

the clock...

...stopped

lowering my umbrella

lowering my umbrella

I avoid

the beggar’s gaze

Published (2019) in Failed Haiku Volume 4, Issue 42 p. 32

wisteria blossom

with rain

dripping down

Published (2020 The Asahi Shimbun 15 May

aroused from sleep

I bid farewell

to my ancestors

writing my will

I hesitate

over the signature

Published (2019) in Failed Haiku Volume 4, Issue 42, page 32

funeral plans

so many

final choices

Published (2019) in Failed Haiku Volume 4, Issue 42, page 32

making love

with the bedroom door open

empty nest

Published (2019) in Failed Haiku Volume 4, Issue 42, page 32

sheltered housing

in the window

new ornaments

small shops

with apostrophe’s

scattered randomly

hailstones

hissing

in the hot hearth

the old priest

remembering me

but not my name