Friday, March 11, 2011

Southern Christmas - senryu and haiku - Peter Macrow

Southern Christmas
senryu and haiku

her Christmas red top
work makes her wear
'I'm here' she says it says

a man holds the seat
for his boy
wobbling his Christmas bike

neighbour's barbecue
guess who got a trumpet
for Christmas?

New Year's Eve a cabbage moth
crosses the lawn
ahead of its shadow

New Year's Day the first
dandelion daisy
in freshly cut grass

January 7th
a Christmas balloon
still in the tree

Peter Macrow

Sunday, January 9, 2011

tincture - stuart barnes


our prickly pear’s
eleven copper
suns have expired.
bellies of Rainbow
parrots flare against
a Henson sky like
matches. fireworks
ridicule horizons. a
stray cat blackens.

stuart barnes

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

We Raw Muggers Haiku - Shane Jesse Christmass

We Raw Muggers Haiku

lying bathe bridge of his
nose one of the other

rapidly into an insole
fall to his

to lie swivels around
in trouble
this comet is useless

the taps off and then
murder these
what do you want?

the water turned trusses are
casing and us coming from
the bathing cautioned

textual some unceasing
plucks off the night
it’s him to hog into what is right

l walked the corridor well
doesn’t mountain bike in the amulet
crackled himself

I’m a bit nervous
she ; the milky cup
of tea

Shane Jesse Christmas

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Modem - Stuart Barnes


London by night all alone,
London by night on my own

3 a.m., 3 a.m., 3 a.m. Eternal like
those Justified Ancients of Mu Mu
I snap awake, buzzy from my
purple shrinking pills, to stagger
to the loo to take a piss. Passing
the computer it startles
me still, this little black sarcophagus
with the boisterous proboscis and
kaleidoscopic lights, electric blue.
May it mourn for a tampered field
of corn? Is there something more?

Stuart Barnes

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Jeremy Balius - Three Haiku

falling leaves spin
teaching dervishes
to whirl


mother smiles
then passes on to glory –
the sea ebbs


a crow returns to murder
not enough
frequent flyer points

Jeremy Balius

Monday, June 28, 2010

Phillip A Ellis - 15 August 2009

15 August 2009

Over lands, seas, and oceans, the stars rise
steadily, into night and the dark sky
unmarked by any moon. When the stars fade
from the heights, scratched as it is by streets' lamps,
houses, other buildings, then no eye knows
what was once seen, in the open night sky:
seasons, directions, legends, and fair lamps
hung from the heavens, and from a dark vault.

But the night is still young, younger than time,
younger than the lands over which it's hung
like a veil of unseeing, emptiness
kept at bay as by gossamer star-veils,
clusters of flaming gas, fields of burning,
fragile wards facing entropy, heat death.

Phillip A Ellis

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Jeff Klooger - A Brief History Of Getting Smashed

A Brief History Of Getting Smashed

Emotion is chemistry, and alcohol
is love ― here especially, or anywhere tropical.
Tonight we will get drunk like scientists, our heads bursting
with untested theories, facts
whizzing past our eyes
and into the sunset.

We don’t care. Without fear or forethought,
we gaze into the magic heart of things. Reality
is what we see when we close our eyes,
sure as physics, sucking us in
like gravity. If you lie flat out
and stare straight up at the stars, you will get dizzy,
but all that whirling still makes sense somehow.

God is a dry martini, shaken not stirred.
Proof is a toothpick
piercing the olive of the world.
Einstein understood: the faster you go
the heavier you get.
Intoxication is a formula
that escapes to infinity.

Jeff Klooger