Poem: A political ghost flew, ruining my view

The wheat it rises fast by summer late Honey yellow melting into rich gold Yet now, streaking through the swaying barley Comes ex-P.M. from Euro state of old Fleeing worldly problems and past mistakes With childish abandon and youth-lost glee Surprised, then angry; next, aloud thinks I: “Well, that’s stained this golden moment for me!”Continue reading “Poem: A political ghost flew, ruining my view”

A poor attempt at a Saturday morning Haiku

I once took part in some writing seminars with a local author, who suggested writing a Haiku a day. In their opinion, the short form of this style of poetry (three lines of 5-7-5 syllables) was a great way to practice the distillation of a thought or mood into a very short set of phrases.Continue reading “A poor attempt at a Saturday morning Haiku”