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Tag: haiku

distancing

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the radio set

a child’s hand on the button

switches the world off

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©Marie Marshall

The new Showcase at the zen space is now published. Please visit.

Late May

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let-lie cinders

greying in my grate

while the birds sing

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©Marie Marshall

spring

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cut the green stick

and spring bleeds

on the old wall

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©Marie Marshall

equinox sunrise

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the new day gold

stakes its life against

those dark corners

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©Marie Marshall

first foot

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my doorway

lets in your first foot

– the house warms

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©Marie Marshall

this young woman

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this young woman

her skirt misfolded –

a broken china cup

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©Marie Marshall

stand/move

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the trees all stand still

as we sway a bird tumbles

in the contrailed sky

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The Autumn 2019 Showcase at the zen space is now published – click here to visit.

©Marie Marshall

an overcoat

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a worn overcoat

hangs on the back of the door

– I say time to go

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full-moon-icon-hi©Marie Marshall

a sea

Maybe this has to do with proximity

– I’m a hill away and you could see

me if it wasn’t for the trees – but I’ve

a little of the sea in these eyes today;

don’t laugh, don’t curl your lip, for

if this water rises it’ll reshape all of

your stone and your iron; there’ll be

a blow from the horizon (the horizon

or thereabouts) that’ll ripple it, and

I’ll sleeve into a suit of lights, brace,

arch my back, and be counted: one,

no stronger number is, exists, even

can exist, stand it wherever you will.

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the day fire slanting

makes raw gold of the city

– the water steeling

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full-moon-icon-hi©Marie Marshall

a dove

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What’s new is also old, the world is a button that can’t be pushed, the sky in the firth has occasionally blinked in the train’s blind windows as it crosses the bridge; apart from that, there is a small sound to be heard, but it has only just been heard, no matter if it had always been there.

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a dove mourns

and a grey morning

deals the town

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full-moon-icon-hi©Marie Marshall