Sunday 9 February 2014

Storm and Spirit, High Tides and Haiku

The wind howls, herald
Of a fearful, dreadful day.
A crashing of waves

Waves, wind-goaded, whirl
And twist in frenzied fury
Helpless rainclouds weep

A lull between storms.
The cry of birds mourning their
Shattered nests. Dark clouds.

Storm wreckage, strewn in
A casual disorder.
Dull grey morning light

Storm battered coast, an
Unleashed cocktail of furies
Howl and twist with rage.

Distant sound of a
Radio floats on the breeze.
Ripples on a lake

Winter's uncertain
Sunlight, wavering and brief,
Is always welcome

Sound of a raindrop,
Tiny splash, barely noticed
Unheeded moments

The insistent thrust
Of a restless, longing heart
Only love can meet

Shards of narrative
In swift tumbling confusion
Whirl through fevered dreams

Frostbound field, lightly
Touched by the early sunrise
As shadows retreat

The passing of hours
Where nothing at all happens
Tranquil tedium

Happiness, finding joy through
Jesus, Lamb of God

The simplicity
Of suggestions to the mind
Zen calligraphy

Pure Zen garden. Dry
Rock cascades, land-locked islands
Trick the mind with ease.

To be intently
Still is to be journeying.
All movement is Mind

Blood on jagged glass,
Dripping in slow viscous drops
A young life blighted

Peopled loneliness,
Many headed solitude,
A despairing heart.

A sleep resembling
Death, the heart's feeble flutter
Soon, the final rest.

Incense, in lazy
Wisps, drifts through sunlit spaces
Rising to heaven

Winter-born despair
Child of a mind buried deep
In long, cold, darkness

He will lift you up
On eagles wings, you will see
A new day dawning

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