A haiku is a Japanese poem that aims to capture a surprising or touching moment in words, often connected with nature or the changing seasons. They’re usually 3 lines long, with a strict syllable count for each line, so that composing them is often a bit like solving a crossword puzzle.
I've been keeping a daily haiku diary for almost 5 years that gives me a kind of alternative snapshot for the day, and, over time, the year. Many of them are work related, covering moments of poignancy, risk and humour. This is a selection of haikus from a random year before the lockdown began.
Some of these were inspired by encounters with people in the community, in empty properties and hostels – others reflect moments in office life.
-o-
Once missing person
shows up without
any hair.
No time to see us
Spied from a
window
in the hospital
courtyard.
Last season’s
tenant.
Small peer
support group
reflects on homelessness’
scars.
Outside,
squirrels play
Hoarded memories
sealed, thirty
years ago, fill
the unfurnished
flat.
Flowing from
rooftops,
the morning’s
flash snowfall thaws,
trickling like
fountains.
Tension is
contained
inside
assessment. Outside
small dogs shred
cushions.
Leaving hospital
after seven
weeks, with life
stored in plastic
bags.
He’d cleared up
for me,
but my eye was
still drawn by
out of place
hammer.
Hailed like a
taxi
by three managers
running
late for a
meeting.
Man in a
wheelchair
faces an
earthbound future
unable to fly.
Glasses left at
home
I must be my
colleague’s eyes,
while he is my
hands.
Less than a year
old,
an innocent smile
lights up
the homeless
drop-in
Behind net
curtains,
magpie pecks
glass quizzically
while I finish
work.
When depression
laughs
It’s funny and
true.
-o-
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