United Kingdom

  • Sliding Doors

    Beep, beep, beep … oh, what now?! Is it time already? Surely she can’t be in labour now. It’s been just under two hours.

    Beep, beep, beep … the beeper continues its disturbing melody.
    It’s so peaceful and quiet under the linden tree and the sweet nostalgic aroma of the slightly shrunk blossoms evokes almost a Zen like state of mind. Not urgency. Definitely not that!
    Beep, beep, beep …!!!

    baby’s first cry
    a silence in between
    the angel wings' flutter

    Count to 10 in reverse order. Ten, nine, eight … Why just 10? I can start from 100. I’m not tired. I’m so full of excitement, I’m having my baby, I can climb mountains, Everest even … What comes after eight? Her hands are so warm. They smell of linden blossoms …

     

  • Something in the Air


    a musty smell
    in the local museum
    dug up pots

    Things behind glass. Things you can't touch. So good to get back to the feel of now. An open window. Radio music and birdsong mingling in the midst of a damp June afternoon.

    an egret flies
    through sculpted foliage
    petrichor

  • Stephen Toft



    alpine church
    the sky blue eyes
    of the priest

     

    wild camping
    i catch the trout
    in my dream

  • Stephen Toft


    farewell meal
    the wine has a taste
    i cannot name

     

    alpine monastery
    the monks
    all suntanned

  • Stephen Toft


    opening
    a train window
    the conductor
    lets in a single
    flake of snow

  • Steve Mangan

    a biscuit
    and a cold nose
    in my palm
     

    a gaggle 
    of geese unzips the 
    summer sky
     

    subway steps –
    a steep ascent
    to the moon
     

    spider’s web
    maps the wrinkles
    on his face
     

    starless sky . . .
    the sniffings of
    a fox
     

    Steve Mangan is a semi-retired careworker from the UK living as an ex-pat in Turkey.

  • Steve Mangan

    Saturday dad ---
    I wait outside the bookies
    with a can of pop,
    at church we light a candle
    for his horse


     
    snowflakes
    and a robin's song
    in streetlight
    the city-bird sings
    through the night


     
    winter solstice
    a bowl of red bean porridge
    with fifty birds' eggs
    the days grow longer
    and the years shorten

  • Stoyanova, Iliyana

    misty walk
    a magpie
    shade of blue

    Time Haiku #48

  • Stoyanova, Iliyana

    cicada songs
    last vestiges of summer
    on YouTube

     

    autumnal sunset
    fifty shades
    of sorrow

     

    where two seas meet
    the broken V
    of wild geese

  • Sutcliffe, Rachel

     

    sheeting rain the outstretched snail

     

    rippling through ripple after ripple sun on the stream

     

    still childless playtime in the park

     

     

  • Sutcliffe, Rachel

    filling our silence
    the heavy scent
    of lilies

    wild voices, vol 2: an anthology of short poetry & art by women
    (Edited by Caroline Skanne) wildflower poetry press 2018

  • Sutcliffe, Rachel

    nightfall
    the snow
    settling

     

    summer dusk
    reading by lamplight
    this moth and I

     

    sugar cubes
    the scent of horse
    in my hand

     

    the steady creak
    of the old garden fence
    honeysuckle breeze

     

    sudden rain
    strangers
    share the doorway

  • Tim Gardiner


    selfie…
    is Matsushima
    not enough


    jaywalking…
    the stag beetle
    dodges my foot



  • Toft, Stephen

    dUSt


    desert mathematician arms
    outstretched


    winter architect i buy his silence


    after the frog
    i dissect
    an earthquake

  • Toft, Stephen


    winter my son sleeps in a bear suit



    tonight she says my hair needs moonlight 



    full of milk my ghost brother



    still half-asleep i thank the ATM



    between the ribs a whale a winter star



    old sailor carving songs from the wind



    as my wife sleeps i wrestle a rainbow

     

  • Tracy Davidson

    black spots
    dance across the dusky sky
    starlings
    shape-shift their way
    home to roost

     

    amid graffiti
    and mindless vandalism
    flowers wilt
    in the cold shadow
    of her gravestone

     

    winter moon
    the longest night feels longer
    waiting
    for a baby's
    first woeful cry

     

    Tracy Davidson writes haiku, tanka and other short poetry. Her work has appeared in various publications including Modern Haiku, Atlas Poetica, Ribbons, Moonbathing, A Hundred Gourdsand Notes from the Gean. She lives in Warwickshire, England.

  • Watson, Roger

    free newspaper
    fake news
    comes cheap

     

    war correspondent
    anticipating battle
    killing time

     

    a crack
    of broken twigs
    the smell of sap

  • We Rest Our Oars

    river's edge
    starcluster blooms
    in the moonlight

    notes from a banjo
    travel downstream

    purple dusk
    a rainbow of flowers
    in her hair

    picnic for two 
    a mysterious bird call
    as we rest our oars 

    golden droplets sparkle
    on the pussy willows

    driftwood
    a line of turtles
    sun basking
     

    Ron C. Moss (Aus) &
    Caroline Skanne (UK)

  • Webb, Diana


    catch up one step back a snail's glisten

  • Whitehead, Lucy

    halfway up the stone steps
    a toad and I meet
    in the moonlight

     

    old postcard
    when our friendship
    was young

     

    family album
    four variations
    of the same smile