#1640 (#304)

in the old station

memories of days and nights

start, end, mid-travel

#1639 (#303)

a sea of voices

filling the space with their joy

so passionately 

#1638 (#302)

the bricked-up windows

in the house behind the shop 

intrigue me daily

#1637 (#301)

on sick days i want -

shower on, feel something else;

just for a short time

#1636 (#300)

leaves turning tumbling

creating a new carpet

middle of the road

#1635

we prisoners had

a figurehead monarchy

a god queen fascist 

---

From words on page 33 of 168 Songs of Hatred and Failure: A History of Manic Street Preachers by Keith Cameron (White Rabbit, 2025).

#1634 (#299)

when we taste of salt

when we should drink some water

but just keep tasting

#1633

help me keep alive

as old people forgotten

the future will be

---

From words on page 33, ish, of Young Hag by Isabel Greenberg (Jonathan Cape, 2024).

#1632 (#298)

bejewelled spider web

from parked tyre to tarmac

shining at danger

#1631

tell her, “anyone.”

“ugh, fine, but tell him to stop -

war may interject.”

---

From words on page 52, or thereabouts, of Glass Town by Isabel Greenberg (Jonathan Cape, 2020).

#1630 (#297)

a path of pure joy

where nothing can be taken

and nothing destroyed

#1629 (#296)

in the music school 

wonky drunken sailors fill

the whole corridor 

#1628 (#295)

in the music school

serene gamelan sounds reach

down the corridor

#1627 (#294)

meeting in my head

happy, sad, worried, angry

who will take control?

#1626 (#293)

a powerlessness

“pain” that makes me want to cry

an anger rising

#1625 (#292)

a migraine sunday

pushing through it all until

the evening's relief

#1624 (#291)

an idea gone

can't have been a good one but

i hope it returns

#1623 (#290)

covered over sign,

does that road go nowhere then?

cause it still exists!

After years of driving the same route I suddenly noticed, on one sign at a crossroads, one road had been covered over - yet the road is still there and can be turned into.

#1622 (#289)

did I have biscuits?

you know i think that i did

but can't remember 

#1621 (#288)

wet road golden light

fills the side mirrors, your eyes…

shows you heaven's path

#1620 (#287)

i forget sometimes

that i’m old, greying, half dead

inside i’ve not changed

#1619 (#286)

quiet friday street

listening to yesterday

perturbed by it all

#1618 (#285)

a folded-up bed

was it a hospital bed?

you are too nosey

#1617 (#284)

dark shades in the mist

looming shapes as yet unclear

following us home

#1616 (#283)

in the swimming hall

warmth wraps me in a blanket

sends me off to sleep

#1615 (#282)

in the swimming hall

heat exhaustion looks at me

hopes i will look back

#1614

single boy, Chester,

disinfectant air puzzle

monochrome shopping

---

From words on page 258 of Stone & Sky by Ben Aaronovitch (Orion, 2025).

#1613 (#281)

her commute broken,

phone held up to capture the

wanstead flats rainbow

#1612 (#280)

a hand now unheld

a walk commute now lonely

his gentleman gone

#1611 (#279)

that look of wonder

on faces in museums…

remembering mine

#1610 (#278) (an extra syllable or two in the last line would have been nice)

in tandem noises

in adjacent cubicles - 

lift, piss, flush, wash, dry. 

#1609 (#277)

writing endlessly

almost the same as breathing

it’s more like thinking

#1608

memories that blur,

streak and run like the tears of

perseid showers

---

Written for the August Tricycle Haiku Challenge using the Summer season word, Perseids.

#1607 (#276)

“struggling against wind,

the magpie finds little joy” - 

(“only sorrow, natch”)

#1606 (#275) (yesterday)

off sick for two days

day one had something ready

day two i never

#1605 (#274)

kitchen lit gardens

eerie light creeping on lawns

laundry shadows lie