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peter hugo mcclure

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Blogs by peter hugo mcclure

TEN YEARS OF HAIKUS
3/2/2011 7:44:34 AM    [ Flag as Inappropriate ]

HAIKUS WRITTEN OVER A PERIOD OF TEN YEARS...MOST OF THAT TIME I WAS TRAVELLING ABROAD AND THE HAIKUS WERE LIKE A DIARY TO REMIND ME OF THE PLACES VISITED AND WHEN NOT TRAVELLING I WOULD HAVE TIMES TO REFLECT & PONDER ABOUT THIS AND THAT...



TEN YEARS OF HAIKUS
BY
PETER HUGO
MCCLURE
WINTER/09
TREWELLARD
CORNWALL




1- 6


Borrowed experience
Knowledge in books gathering…
The dust of Aeons


The moon unwetted
And the water unmoved…
By its reflection


Brushed by a bird’s wing
A woman serenely sits…
Beauty steals the Hour


A mite walks across
Haikus written by “Basho”…
Here and there it goes


Clear untrodden sand
Rock pools & soaring cliffs…
A Cathedral’s might


Fresh new potatoes
More valuable than paintings…
Lost in Galleries


6- 12


Haikus stand alone
Are without messages like…
The cries of a Mute


Standing in a row
The large family of Quail…
Pause from foraging


Scouring every page
Of every book of Poetry…
The Ants nesting there


Concert al fresco
Dawn cacophony of birds…
To me quite unknown


In a bucket used
For early morning ablutions…
A giant moth hides

Compassion seeks not
And by true understanding…
Embraces all things


13- 18


Rising heaven-ward
On fine invisible string…
The little spider


Rye and clover seeds
Carefully sown…a quick meal
For scores of sparrows


While in the woods caught
Between the setting sun and…
The full-moon rising


Proudly beckoning
The distant islands shrouded…
By the morning mist


Chasing the sun and
Getting truly lost in this…
Consuming landscape


Details are hidden
And the primal mist rife…
In this “Floating World”


19- 24


Proudly you stand there
Having seen life passing by…
Oh! Grand father tree


Olde house a haven
For every kind of insect…
Now all made homeless


Quite at home and
With an endless appetite…
The large brood of quail


One of Nature’s gifts
And a tonic for the busy mind…
Mantra of the waves


It is raining bombs
Save the tears for tomorrow…
There may be a drought


“A blade of grass is
With-out a soul”…what nonsense
I saw one praying


25- 30


Honoured visitor
Partaking in Life’s nectar…
The Red Admiral


A princely reward
For labouring all day…
The setting sun


In the air dancing
The Fan-Tail captivated…
By a simple tune


In a coloured swirl
Sarongs blowing in the wind…
Saying come buy me


Caught by the stillness
Of the turquoise waters here…
In Mangonui


The cry of a child
And the sound of lapping waves…
On Christmas day too!


31- 36



With all doors open
The Muse gracefully enters…
The Artist’s domain


An angels smile and
The hammer’s blow are Maya…
To the soul divine


Writing of Poems
And the picking of flowers…
Again and again


In a quiet moment
Clouds resting on distant hills…
Taking in the view


Trees sway in the wind
Like the hair of young maidens…
In gay abandon


In a confined space
With the yearning to be free…
The Artist is born




37- 42


On a rock alone
Far from the eyes of man…
The Heron muses


Blindly stumble home
From cliff top Meditation…
Having lost the light


Written or spoken
Words are superfluous…
When the body speaks


The enlightened moth
To the candle’s rays drawn and
Dies in the molten wax


Across the Ocean
After just one encounter…
My thoughts are of you


From daily routine
We’d all escape but for the…
Opportunity






43- 48


All I see are trees
All I hear are chirping birds…
Yet the tears roll down


Surfing every wave
The ecstatic joy of a…
Cormorant at play


Scurrying off home
After a long day at work…
The small black beetle


They ignore the storm
The flickering candle and…
The man in the moon


Sitting in “Melrose”
Dust in my guacamole and…
Red-eyed from the fumes


Amidst the high rises
Awakened by the call of…
A solitary bird


49- 54


Glistening dewdrops
Each one a microcosm…
Bejewel the pine tree


Will my house be safe
Tis raining without end…
The stream babbles on


So pristine the leaves
Of the “Basho” glistening…
Under the full moon


Bending with the wind
The Taoist gathers water…
In a straw hat


The glaring eyes of
A pair of possums transfixed…
Like naughty children


Sat in the cool shade
Beneath a green canopy…
Of rustling leaves



55- 60


Liberated and
Hidden by overgrown weeds…
With the scythe swinging


How do you survive
You brilliant coloured parrot…
In a forest of green


On his back from
Eating too many apples…
My neighbour’s lost pig


The Tui’s lament
Not drowned by the river’s…
Frolicsome singing


A regal carpet
Of red…blossom beneath the…
Pohutukawa


The Sun’s eclipse
Totally obscured by the…
Nonchalant clouds


61- 66


Full-moon through the pines
Creating a lattice work…
On the veranda


At the summer’s end
A profusion of colour…
From the Hibiscus


Through out the summer
The changing colour of weeds…
Amongst the grasses


Cliffs disappearing (Japan)
Before my very eyes…
The sea mist rising


High on the pine’s scent
Blindly walking through the woods…
Here in Miyako


You little flower
I can see you peeping with…
Make-up mirror poised


67- 72


Hardly any cars
And no people on this road…
To “Tanohata”


Peace beneath the pines
With bowels fully relieved…
A perfect shrine here


Got greeted by a
Russian on a bicycle…
Here in “Miyako”


A six mat room is
For Itinerant poets…
Pure indulgence


Lost through the throngs and
The Cherry Blossom…sun-set
On “Mount Iwaki”


In the country-side
Rows and rows of paddy-fields…
Not a single cow


73- 78


After a long walk
Rewarded with the pure waters…
From Mount Iwaki


Snowing pink blossom
Ravens grubbing for worms this…
Wet May morning


Repairing their nets
The fishermen on the quay…
Viewed by Mount Chokai


The first primroses
Of the season bid farewell…
In “Kisakata”


A bright welcome of
Red and yellow tulips here…
In Niigata (Japan ends)


With its young playing (Hong Kong)
In the middle of Kowloon…
The Hawks soaring high


79- 84


Lantau Isle greeted
With an array of colour…
Butterflies galore


We had the Hostel
All to our-selves…that is me
And the mosquitoes


On the Lantau trail
A cow resolutely sits…
Proud and arrogant (Hong Kong ends)


For my efforts of
Watering the garden…
The full-moon and stars


From the mighty hills
To the smallest stone…all that
Somebody does own


Where have they all gone
And when will they return the…
Stolen native trees


85- 90


In the Mount’s domain
The tranquil waters are home…
To Excalibur


Bamboo skirts the fields
Of ripening citrus fruit…
Untouched by the wind


With eyes closed shut
Drowned by the intensity…
Of the turquoise hue


The sound of the waves
And the caressing wind sooth…
The cluttered mind


Aiming for the sea
Thinking that it is a fish…
The Hotton-tot fig


Greeted in the wind
Or is the Punga saying…
Be-gone trespasser


91- 96


Peeping through the pines
The crescent moon also hears…
The Cicada’s drone


Viewed through the long grass
Waves breaking on the distant rocks…
Here on Taipa’s shore


Unable to hear
The wind chime…the full-moon
High above the trees


From the withered bough
Falling raindrops make music…
On the Hut’s tin roof


Late in the evening
The bird song becomes louder…
With candle blown out


Stumble upon a
Solitary poppy this…
Early summers evening


97-102


This poor hobbling
One legged pigeon must be…
Supreme in the air


Tries to penetrate
Through the foliage…
The sun’s searching rays


Though you see it not
The Pohutukawa blooms…
In full glory


To reap in vain but
Not to loose sight of the plan…
On those furrowed fields


A prized morsel
Snapper washed up on the beach…
The sea-gulls make haste


A precious jewel!
No! just a tiny flower…
On the woodland floor


103- 108


Know this to be true
Little creatures of the sand…
We are all mortal


Such arduous work
Reaping with bleeding hands…
A large crop of rocks


The Cicada’s drone
Incessant…it penetrates
One’s very being


Standing sedately
And viewing all around the…
Majestic pine tree


Not many people
Crossing the threshold today…
And alas…no sales


The bough of a pine-tree
Caressed by a gentle breeze…
As evening laments




109- 114


Horizon to shore
The empty distance filled by…
A pair of swallows


Unable to hear
The wind chime…the full-moon
High above the trees


On a rock alone
Far from the eyes of man…
The Heron muses


Trees groan in the wind
The birds chatter away and…
The traffic… just hums


It swam away
The Taniwha sculpture…
That you gave to me


For some travelling
At the speed of light is just…
A…bit…too…slow


115- 120


Killed an Ant today
One of thousands of guests…
In my little hut


In these times of change
The reassuring routine…
Off the ebb and flow


A blissful day ends
Suddenly last summer…
That was Nine-Eleven


Up and down a blade
Of grass the lady-bird climbs…
Totally bemused


The shy mosquito
It is hiding some-where …till
It’s safe for feeding


Standing all alone
Against the vast emptiness…
The humble pine tree


121- 126


Drying its wings
After a morning fishing…
The thankful Heron


The plants were here first
And they know a thing or two…
About Alchemy


The critical eye
May peruse the picture…
But fails to see it


Gracefully singing
And swaying in the wind…
A row of pine trees


Moon gazing tonight
Amidst the trees…the rocks and
The gushing stream


Camera poised
Brief moments in time captured…
From this “fleeting world”


127- 132


Lonely Time…seeing
The grieving conspirators…
Crop beauty’s flowers


Tis very quiet
The sound of the earth spinning…
On this summer’s day


No reading…nothing
Humbled by the cicada’s…
Monotonous drone


Shed’s all spick an span
Rice and chillies for dinner…
This cold drizzly day


On the line hanging
Clothing thoroughly rinsed…
By the endless rain


There has been lots of
Bridges under the water…
Back in Belgrade




133- 138


Emerging thoughts
Emanate and flow away…
Like passing clouds


Morning ablution
Spotted a very small white…
Five petalled flower


I was very moved
By the land-slide that by-passed…
My little studio


The sun has fallen
The rain risen…the Cicadas
Loudly celebrate


With a little money
And days of endless rain…
Tis a poor Autumn


Strange sounds emanate
From the possums late at night…
What are they saying


139-144


We have in common
Seventy five percent of
Our genes…Mr Mouse


Squawking family
Feeding time for the Herons…
High-up in the trees


Emptied of water
A bowl on the horizon…
The moon…so it seems


Sitting thus the cloud
Waits…knowing it too will
Become a Buddha


The full-moon after
Days and days of endless rain…
The pumpkins…how big


Don’t ask for the moon
It’s taken…behold a world
In a grain of sand


145- 150


With wind becalmed a
Solitary bird flies by…
This over-cast day


Glistening seaweed
Washed-up on the beach…looking
Like precious jewls


Just the sea and sky
As far as the eye can see…
Very…very blue


The shear indulgence
Of lazing beneath the…
Pohutukawa


With a gentle breeze
And the sun lost behind clouds…
The heat melts away


Ancient volcano
In the distance framed by the…
Pohutukawa


151-156


A Celestial choir
And a distant bird is heard…
This peaceful morning


Raining in L.A.
And the buses…aren’t working…
The pathos of it


The priceless treasure
Gathers no dust…when in a
Chest for-ever locked


Ever so gentle the
The big steal bird gracefully…
Descends for landing


Please be kind today
Let prejudice fly away…
Tis the only way


Nature is faultless
Deformity’s in the mind…
Of those …not so kind


157- 162


Walking the coast path
Chance encounter with a friend…
We discuss our teeth


Trying to make friends
It wispers into my ear…
The flurrying moth


Sitting and watching
The continuous flowing stream…
Soothes the restless soul


Well blanched nettles
And a touch of Soya-sauce…
The soup of the day


It’s talons hold me
Like fish hooks into my flesh…
The black-berry bush


With bleeding hands we
Reap flowers of rank odour…
Upon thorny lands


163- 168


Is that a Buddha
In your garden…no it’s just
A pile of stones


Wavering not…the
Eternal flame of truth
Fires one’s very soul


Gazing into the
Blue yonder…a single line
Divides sea and sky


The rock looks at me
I look back…time measured by…
The falling rain-drops


With no constraints and
Unbounded by convention…
Still to Truth…a slave


Staff a begging bowl
For the mendicant complete…
And a peace of string


169- 174


Lulled to sleep
By the ever lasting sound…
Of the rolling waves


And what will it be?
A pint of poetry please…
It’s the critic’s choice


Cassava…Taro
And coconut oil…a meal
Of supreme delight


Rise early to the
Sound of the dawn chorus…
Fooled by the full-moon


“Live Bait”…from Thailand
That’s what it said on the can…
Found on Taipa’s shore
(post boxing-day 04)

Arduous though it be
The Haiku path’s blessed with…
Beauty on the small


175- 180


Such charming creatures
Devouring everything…those
Spineless slimy slugs


The Dragonfly too
Enjoys the tranquillity…
Of Lamorna’s stream


Not alone tonight
My old friend the crescent moon…
Paid me a visit


Warmed by the sun
And not a care in the world…
Here in Lamorna


The wind bloweth not
The wind chime knoweth not and…
Merrily it rings


Washed-up on the beach
Pair of snapper skeletons…
Together in death


181- 186


Brain rusted and the
Spirit drowned by the very…
Vengeful endless rain


A kiss in passing
Through infinities sun-rise…
Is a joy for-ever


Not knowing of the
Grief and pain of this world…
Flowers…they grow still


May the gift of peace
Be with you this season of…
Blessed offerings


In mid December
Tis warm as a summer’s day…
Here in Lamorna


It’s a sunshine day
And the flowers are still blooming…
This late Autumn day


187- 192


The trickling fountain
And sea-gulls for company here…
In Morrab gardens


No Haikus today
The Muse has gone far away…
There’s nothing to say


When troubled by grief
And woe…remember life is
A bowl of cherries


On the edge alone
Then suddenly from nowhere…
A bird appears


Distant sound of drums
It is no party…it is just
Bamboo in the wind


The shed may be small
And life too short to be lived…
Yet dragons still prey


193- 198


The last song uttered
By the last of its species…
Would we hear it


The distant lament
Of the “Tui”…not drowned by
The frolicsome stream


How far we walk from
One hell into another…
Between heaven’s joys


As days get longer
The daffodils…so keen to
Raise their weary heads


Every which way
Without rhyme or reason…
The little lost Ant


By the brute force of
Number crunching are we…
Any closer to God


199- 204


From the cliffs below
A solitary sea gull…
Rises heavenward


The aesthete ponders
A plate of food as Art…
And dies enlightened


From these ravaged lands
Pining for the sweet taste from…
The fruit of Reason


Loathsome though it be
But are we any better than he…
The cursed cockroach


Just discernable
On mist clouded cliffs a…
Hovering seagull


Will it never end
This winter of discontent…
Bright rays beckon


205- 210


Torn apart by strife
And the carnage of war…yet
Life it goes on…still


Who will visit me
This empty shed by the stream…
On this Christmas day


“You smell” he says and
You are polluting my house…
Such a fine fellow


The homeless gather
All forlorn for the free food…
By the Palace gates


This Itinerant
Vagabond’s just another…
Yama-Bushi


Every day sleeping
And eating three meals a day…
How very stupid


211- 216


Bathing in the glow
Of early flowering blossom…
This mild winter’s morn


He says “you cannot
Rent my house” because you are…
An Itinerant


In these brief moments
Strutting upon this stage we…
Finally pass-away


In calm repose
Beneath a tree in summer…
Words come streaming past


Lightened from fasting
And walking the Dharma Path…
With no end in sight


You big buffoon
So that is what you’re thinking…
The audacious frog


211- 216


Feeling sad and blue
And there’s nothing I can do…
Cept say…I love you


There’s nothing new
Under the sun…every-thing
Dies and is reborn


The early spring rush
Of the Sun…arching its way…
Over St. Michael’s Mount


An afternoon spent
Joyously repairing paths…
That go nowhere


Going for a stroll
Get wet then dry…wet then dry…
Between rain and wind


Surviving with the
Anomalies of being…
A human seeing


216- 222


With reservoirs full
The hose-pipe ban stays still this…
Very wet Winter


Letting your self go
Feeling your way around and…
Going with the Tao


Trudging fields…sodden
From weeks of horrendous rain…
Get muddied all over


First of the season
Hostel bed in exchange…
For some gardening


With an open heart
Touching the soul of others…
The Rose’s fragrance


Proudly standing there (Malta)
Up-against the southern skies…
A solitary Church


223- 228


On the Hour church-bells
Ringing…No tis just tradesmen…
With their tools working


On a bench lazing
Beneath the watchful eye…
Of the Knight’s Tower


In the company
Of bright yellow flowers all…
Gazing at the sun


Ambling along
And stumble upon the…
Smallest white flower


Every-where a Church
In this most Catholic place…
Thanks to St. Paul


On this tiny island
The eye’s of God blinded by…
The white stone buildings (Malta ends)


229- 234


Loads of dosh “gifted”
To bent “bureau-bunnies” with…
A kick-back later


No regrets or fears
And no time for tears in the…
Autumn of our years


The path to Reason
Is littered with unfinished…
But good intentions


The wind in your hair
The roar of the waves and not…
A Soul to be seen


Lying on The Path
With no care in the world…
The ecstatic tramp


What a welcome this
Regal red carpet of…
Camellia blossom


235- 240


Bumble-bee passes
While drinking ulong tea…
By the gushing stream


Every which way
The Ant searching in vain for…
A four-leaf clover


What do you see
Little Robin surveying…
The land in Lamorna


Stealing “Blake’s Hour”
In a Haiku about a…
Beautiful woman


An English man’s shed
Is his castle …if that is All
That he possesses


Loathsome though it be
Are we any better than he…
This wretched cockroach


241- 246


Stumble upon a
Precious Lapis Lazuli…
On the wood-land floor


Breathing its last…this
Monarch Butterfly is just…
Another Mortal


A great work of ART
Can dazzle the enemy…
Like a well made shield


Face to face meeting
Every morning with the…
Monarch butterfly


This merry Fan-tail
Sings its heart-out and dances…
Rapturously around


William Blake and
Socrates are my day’s fare…
Here in Waiheke


247- 252


Shackled to the rocks
The Pohutukawa shines…
At the beach’s end


All manner of birds
Entertain on the beach…
By being them-selves


The singing blossom
Cannot be heard by the birds
That flower all day


It is the season
Of searching for a female…
Monarch butterfly


Caught between the sun-set
And the full-moon rising in…
Santa Monica


Eyeing all below
With gentle curiosity…
The clouds high above


253- 258


Gnarled by all that (a walk…)
The Tempest can throw…stands the
Pokutukawa


Washed upon the beach
The harmless skeleton of …
The Porcupine-Fish


Kept awake all night
By my unwelcome guests…
The Mosquitoes


We are mere mortals
But you majestic Kauris…
Will reign for-ever


Way weary feet seek
A rest…as the long shadow…
Meets its final end


After a gruelling
Three days arrive exhausted…
At “Ta-Potu-Potu” (…up 90milebeach)


259- 264


Being The Master
Of the skies compensates this…
One legged sea-gull


The Pawns or Peasants
Are the very soul of chess…
And of a Country


Must be the Monarch
That was responsible for the…
“Butterfly Effect”


This man of POVERTY
Is really just a POET…
With-out the…V R Y


Drenched by the rain
This Christmas day on the beach…
Not a soul in sight


Arrives finally
The migrating Monarch…
Generations Later


265- 270


Struggling till the end
Just like us they are mortal…
Monarch Butterflies


Waking up to the
Daily sound of dripping rain…
Will it ever stop


Man of Poverty
“Ryokan” was truly blessed…
By the Unseen hand


Tear my heart out here
In this tranquil Kauri-Grove…
I truly would not mind


You’re so eccentric
Randomly zigzagging…you
Drunken butterfly


I cannot catch this
Evasive butterfly that…
Comes fluttering by


271- 276


Breath the verdant green
On a Sunday’s walk in a…
Forest…so pristine


Beneath the cliff- face
Hidden from the mid-day sun…
The Pohutukawa


Satiated by
The eucalyptus and…
Bathing in its balm


The ecstatic joy
Of a pair of dragonflies…
Circling the sky


Amidst the bird song
The falling of a single…
Solitary leaf


Though their life be short
Butter flies abhor straight lines…
And in no hurry


277- 282


Backwards and forwards
Forever…for this Ant it’s…
Pure purgatory


Flying in circles
For the shear pleasure of it…
The large Dragonfly


Unable to sleep
With so many promises to keep…
There’s no time to sleep


Do not forsake the
Defenders of Liberty…
For they hold the Key!


A scrawny cat peers
Into dark waters rather…
Too expectantly


This poet is just
Stringing words together…
Like a daisy chain


283-288


Greeted in Hainan (China)
By a little bird on a…
Flowering tree


A magic sun-rise
Even amongst the high rises…
Here in Haikou


On the water’s edge
The Tai Chi masters flowing..
Beneath the tree’s boughs


Tin bell tinkle-ling
The pied-piper of rubbish…
Loads his tricycle


The grand and modest
A medley of contrasts in…
This booming China


Scaffolding covers
All the buildings…sprucing up
For the summer Games


289- 294


Red lanterns galore
People scurrying about,,,
Tis China’s New Year


Standing out a mile
A black butterfly against the…
White sands of San Ya


Myriads of people
On the beach…it must be a
Very special day


Animated Russian
Muttering I know not what…
Here on San Ya’s shore


Coconut trees…sway
Fisher-men their nets…repair
Sea breeze the day…cools


From where did it come
This black butterfly that..
Arrived on San Ya’s shore


295-300


Ripples on the pond
Cannot erase the moon…it
Just keeps coming back


All manner of sounds
But above the mayhem…
A bird’s song is heard


The perfect grace
Of a Chi Gong performance…
The perfect farewell (China ends)


Don’t ask me why
The butterfly flutters by…
Ask the flutter-by


Whispering Willow
And shrieks of an unknown bird…
Across still waters


Life’s work complete this
Butterfly makes peace with the…
Maker of all things






301- 306


This little sparrow
Finds us so amusing and…
Can’t stop chattering


On a withered branch
A cheerful fantail is just…
Celebrating life


From adversity
The gnarled Pohutukawa…
Craves for attention


Where ever I go
There you are… you faithful
Monarch butterfly


A bemused Heron
At the sight of a rabbit…
On the water’s edge


Of gossamer wing
The hovering dragonfly…
Suspended in space






307-312


Viewing sandwiches
While eating St. Michael’s Mount…
Kernow flag…flapping


Nowt to celebrate
This dark and dismal day cept…
The bus was on time


Misty in Pahi
Boats tethered to their moorings…
Awaiting the bus


Arriving down south
With my constant companion…
Mister-rain-all-day


All may plainly see
An innocent man he be…
This man of poverty


Life’s an Idiot’s Tale
Full of sound and fury that…
Signifies nothing


313- 318


A rain-bow and a
Solitary sea-gull greet…
This wet winter morn


Itinerant priest
Of a rather militant kind…
The “Yama Bushi”


Life’s a journey
And Time is the traveller…
On this endless path


All snug and warm
In the social club on wheels…
This cold winter’s morn


Good music…love and
The sun’s healing rays does the…
Inner Being sooth


Visitors are few
Tranquil arbours aplenty…
Here in mid-winter


319- 324


Wings firmly clipped
Unable to migrate this year…
Confined to one place


I am sure that this
One legged pigeon is the…
Master of the skies


The Autumn sun-shine
Enjoyed by the butterfly…
The cat and me


You can have your way
If you are prepared to pay…
That is what they say


It’s bright and sunny
But it ain’t very funny…
Not having money


God will not betray
If you ardently pray…
And you’ll find a way


325-330


A labyrinth of
Ancient mine workings…
On the water’s edge


With chaos all around
What’s there to do Prince Igor…
Just let the heart melt


The tracks all muddy
Ah! But what an ode to joy here…
On the pristine beach


A crashing crescendo
Of waves upon sand and rocks…
This late summer’s day


There may be strict rules
But morals…there are none
In the game of chess

The days get shorter
As the sun struggles to rise…
Winter approaching


331- 336


The world’s money is
Sloshing around like water…
In a sinking ship


Just chasing rain-bows
That’s what this artist’s doing…
Amidst the Mayhem


The money’s all gone
Mercilessly consumed by…
The Ritual Fire Dance


Paying Homage in
A derelict mine where men…
Once slaved for tin


Lifted from despair
And melancholy by the…
Vagrant’s soothing song


The sun swallowed by
The greedy Atlantic…
In darkness…alone


337- 342


Levant is calling
Hear the song of the sea and…
Of departed souls


The Angelus
Far from the maddening crowd…
On the water’s edge


These granite structures
Pay tribute to the selfless…
Efforts of miners


Tin merchant Joseph
In Glastonbury buried…
With his Magic Staff


The Levantine’s Feet
Did on Cornwall’s coast path tread…
Many years ago


In the Buddha World
A butter-fly is dreaming…
Of being “Soshi”



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More Blogs by peter hugo mcclure
• POEMS FROM THE TOP DRAWER...MAY.2012 - Tuesday, May 15, 2012
• RESURRECTION - Wednesday, February 29, 2012
•  TEN YEARS OF HAIKUS - Wednesday, March 02, 2011  


Facing The Demon of noontide by Ian Irvine (Hobson)

Facing the Demon of Noontide is a poetic meditation on the soul in a postmodern setting. This collection of poems by Ian Irvine breaks new poetic ground even as it deals with the h..  
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