Hold On

Loose Leaves – Looking Back

 

For about a month late last year, I had to take the little community bus (“sugimaru”) between Asagaya and Hamadayama in Tokyo.

 

 

SUGIMARU

Each day –

falling a little more

in love

with a recorded voice:

 

“The bus will now depart,

so please –

hold on tight!”

 

Another Fiendish Plot

Loose Leaves – Art Inspired

 

This set of senryu, or sequence of linked verse, revisits a favourite theme of mine: the Emma Peel era of ‘The Avengers’ (see also, Leaf 71 and Leaf 99). It draws its inspiration from an episode in which our dynamic duo investigate some dastardly goings-on at a seemingly respectable department store. A plot that culminates in a dramatic fight where the inimitable Mrs Peel very deftly bests all her foes.

 

 

DEATH AT BARGAIN PRICES (1966)

Feminine intuition –

foiling another

fiendish plot.

 

Rendering him silent –

a flash from her

tightly gloved hand.

 

Feeling her flex –

a black belt

in svelte leather.

  

Dispatching henchmen

with arched eyebrows

and judo chops:

 

Saving the world

with elan –

Mrs Emma Peel.

 

 

 

Cool Spoons

Leaf 391 – Looking Back

 

Looking back on life, I sometimes find a strange sort of contentment in not knowing …

 

 

COOL SPOONS

 

A few photographs and old postcards –

two cigarettes, smouldering 

memories of younger days:

 

Kettle clicks –

tinkling two mugs

in the kitchen.

 

Tight-laced lovers laugh together –

drinking tea, eating biscuits,

in bed.

 

My shabby old flat

on the High Street –

long since flattened and gone.

 

Half-a-lifetime:

the mystery

of who you were,

and,

who you went on to be?

 

 

Photograph Credit: IMDb

Nightingale

Leaf 382 – Art Inspired

 

Joseph Severn - John Keats (c.1821) National Portrait Gallery

Sometime in May 1819, while living in Hampstead, John Keats wrote his ‘Ode to a Nightingale.’ (See also, Leaf 11 and Leaf 12).

 

 

Amid beechen green,

summer sings o’er

the Vale of Health.

 

Long gone,

but echoing still –

light-winged song.

 

Dreams passing on,

soft incense drifts

through the boughs.

 

 

 

This sequence of linked verse was originally written and posted on Bluesky in response to a #dailyhaikuprompt: 'nightingale.'

Hospital Horrorfest

Leaf 356 – Art Inspired

 

Following on from the excursion of Leaf 355 into the sub-genre of ‘Sci-Fi-Ku,’ this Leaf has taken a distinct wrong turn into another little-known, twilit backwater of the modern English haiku world – the fright fest of ‘Horror Senryu!’

Until I first stumbled upon this phenomenon on Bluesky, it was an aspect of modern haiku of which I was wholly unaware. And I have to confess, I am not a huge fan of horror films or novels per se. It’s not a genre I follow. But, like all hapless curious souls, I sometimes succumb to a morbid curiosity and can’t help wondering “what’s in the box?” – and so I take a quick peek, only to find my squeamish faintheart regretting it and beating a hasty retreat. But game for the challenge, I decided to see if I could pen a ‘horror senryu’ of my own. Taking my inspiration from an advert for a ‘Fright Fest’ horror film season which aired a few years ago on Film4, much to my surprise I found myself scribbling the following freaky Friday-ish linked verse. A series of horrific-haiku, cold-filtered from my single greatest fear (hospitals!), pooling itself like a fresh puddle of blood beneath the operating table. Read on with all due caution, especially if you are at all of a nervous disposition …

 

CLOSED WARD

 

A white lab coat

and surgical mask

– two smiling eyes.

 

A syringe held by a

latex gloved hand –

over the stirrup chair.

A lungful

of laughing gas –

to gag the hurt.

 

Waking up

woozy –

touched by the nurse.

Who closes the curtains

about the bed –

and tightens the straps.

 

She whispers –

it’s time for some

more medicine …

 

Photo Credit: Marianna Bukowski - Film4 FrightFest (2012)

Red Planet Rescue

Leaf 355 – Art Inspired

 

When I was very young I used to enjoy watching old, classic science fiction movies on television. It was all part and parcel with my early abiding fascination for astronomy and human space exploration, both of which have remained undiminished with me to the present day, serendipitously furnishing me with plenty of material for many haiku, as a fair number of the leaves already posted here on ‘Shinobazu Pond’ will clearly attest. But it wasn’t until I began posting my haiku on Bluesky that I discovered there was a distinct sub-genre of this kind of writing in contemporary English haiku – aptly and affectionately known as ‘Sci-Fi-ku.’ So in an attempt to emulate the seasoned experts piloting this fast, flourishing satellite orbiting the haiku home planet, I thought I would try to pen a poem or two about one of my most favourite sci-fi movies, ‘Robinson Crusoe on Mars’ (1964). Very quickly it expanded into the following linked verse renku.

 

 

MAROONED ON MARS

 

Monkey business

amid the wreckage,

salvaging smarts.

 

Boiling rocks to breathe

underground beneath

wandering fires.

 

A mind foggy with

phosphorus and sulphur –

Robinson Crusoe on Mars:

 

Breaking bonds to

rescue what’s left

of one’s humanity.

 

Solar horizons

expanding with

each orbit.

 

Electron bolts,

blasting red

scorched rock.

 

Stranded

beneath the stars,

encircling an inner sun.

 

Radio waves crackle,

returning

distant voices.

 

Escaping the thin

air of Mars –

Earthlight dawns anew.

 

Crusoe, Mona and Friday –

each taking their turn

at finding a rescue.

Photo Credits: IMDb & Retrozap

Ordnance Survey

Leaf 328 – Looking Back

 

This linked sequence of verses is a meditation on maps, partly inspired by a geography field trip to the Chiltern Hills, which I went on while I was at school. Maps have always fascinated me. We are very lucky in the UK to have very good maps of the country, provided by the unceasing work of the Ordnance Survey, who have been mapping the landscape since the late 1700s.

 

 

ORDNANCE SURVEY

 

Following a fingerpost –

ascending the path

to Ivinghoe Beacon.

 

Tracing coloured lines,

along contours and

converging coordinates.

 

Folding in on itself –

trig’ points and squares

translating landscape.

 

Making sense

of maps and minds,

charting our course.

 

Glancing up in awe

– compassing the

view’s high vantage.

 

 

 

Soka Matsubara

Leaf 319 – Reflections

 

Last year I went on another of my poetic pilgrimages in search of the haiku master, Matsuo Bashō. I have previously visited several sites in different parts of Japan connected to, or commemorating Bashō, such as Matsushima (see here). But this was my first time to visit Soka Matsubara, a pleasant paved walkway lined with pine trees on the Ayase River in north-eastern Tokyo, which was created to mark the first stopping point on Bashō’s famous route as recorded in his travel diary, ‘Oku no Hosomichi’ (‘Narrow Road to the Deep North’), in 1689. While Bashō set out in spring, I visited Soka Matsubara at the start of autumn – a reality the following paired-poems reflect, but also one which is mirrored in the realisation that I am now several years older than Bashō was when he set out on this, probably his most famous journey. ‘Matsubara’  means ‘pine grove.’ 

 

 

Soka Matsubara

shading the river

into autumn.

 

***

 

Following the ink flow –

Bashō and Sora

travelling north.

 

 

 

The second of these two haiku was originally written and posted on Bluesky in response to a #haikufeels writing prompt: 'travel.'

Photographs by Tim Chamberlain

Terminates Here

Leaf 294 – Homeward Bound

 

Metropolitan Line A-Stock Train (Amersham Museum)

Smells and sounds are often the unexpected, evocative echoes of the past. Growing up in the outer suburbs of northwest London, the Metropolitan Line was our lifeline into the city. This poem is an attempt to capture an aural recollection of what it was like arriving at Baker Street Station, either en route to work or heading out for a night on the town amid the bright lights of the West End. It was written as a nostalgic response to returning to Baker Street after many years away, the sounds and scents of the place instantly transcending time.

 

 

THIS TRAIN TERMINATES HERE

 

Silver carriages

kinking to the curve –

whispering, pneumatic kisses.

 

Echoing

along the platform,

a sharp screech –

rumbling out into

long rattles and clanks.

 

Easing into

a Baker Street siding,

doors sliding into a sigh.

 

 

 

 

Ron Embleton - Travelling to Work (Story of Newspapers, 1968)

Coming of Age

Leaf 285 – Art Inspired

 

I recently watched the film ‘Empire of the Sun’ (1987), which is based on J.G. Ballard’s book of the same title. It’s a film I watched many times while I was growing up, but it was only when I was much older that I actually read the book. Later still, I even went to several of the locations in and around Shanghai that feature in the book, which is actually a semi-autobiographical novel. 

Norman Rockwell - Freedom from Fear (1943)

I find it fascinating to see all the subtle nuances which Steven Spielberg managed to weave into the movie. The symbolic mirroring and foreshadowing. It really is a masterpiece of motion picture film-making. It must be quite a challenge to make a very good film of a very good book. Often, they end up being two distinctly different things. But, in this instance, there’s a lot in the book which is very deftly hinted at in the film – even if it is not shown exactly as it is described on the printed page. The two poems posted below are a reflection upon that aspect of the book as it is very subtly suggested in the film; of things seen and unseen; of things felt and experienced, but forever unspoken.

 

 

COMING OF AGE [I.]

 

A potato in his pocket?

 

Under cover of darkness

a secret self –

making new discoveries.

(after J.G. Ballard’s ‘Empire of the Sun’)

***

 

COMING OF AGE [II.]

 

Death’s radiance rises in darkness:

 

Watching Mrs Victor’s

soul ascend –

into bright white light.

 

(after J.G. Ballard’s ‘Empire of the Sun’)

 

'Empire of the Sun' (1987) film stills: IMDb / Norman Rockwell painting: Wikipedia

Making A Day Of It

Leaf 274 – Looking Back

 

Ronald Lampitt - August (1958)

I have always loved watching birds. This linked verse poem (of twenty haiku, and one closing tanka) is an attempt to distil a day of avian activity in an English suburban back garden, hopefully incorporating a subtle feel for the seasons progressing from Spring to Autumn as well.

 

 

MAKING A DAY OF IT

 

Making a symphony

of the early morning sun

– dawn chorus awakes.

 

Making a grub

wriggle in its beak –

a wren checks its route.

 

Making a big splash

in the bird bath –

house sparrows.

 

Making an ungainly mess

under the bird feeder

– a wood pigeon.

 

Making a quick sortie

down to the lawn –

a blue tit bobs.

 

Making a menace –

a couple of shady crows,

calling to collect.

 

Making a dash

across an empty patio

– a pied wagtail passes.

 

Making quiet progress

amid the leafy hedge –

a dunnock on the hop.

 

Making its song heard,

top of the apple tree –

a great tit hollerin’ the blues.

 

Making a clean sweep

a couple of swifts –

scything the sky.

 

Making a blackbird

lose its mind –

ginger tom, unfussed.

 

Making the gardener’s fork

turn its advantage –

cock robin.

John Leigh-Pemberton - Bullfinches (1967)

  

Making a royal review

in plum-hued plumage

– a pair of bullfinches.

 

Making its descent

upside down –

a nuthatch knows.

 

Making a kaleidoscope

take wing – goldfinches

flocking through.

 

Making a racket

at the top of the conifers

– magpies conferring.

 

C.F. Tunnicliffe - Magpies and Larch

 

Making a flurry –

dust bathing

sparrows.

 

Making a stately visit –

two collared doves,

cooing.

 

Making a melody

crisp ‘n’ cleanly clear –

a chaffinch conducts.

 

Making the laundry line sway

– long tailed tits

simply passing through.

 

Making a runway

for Mr & Mrs Mallard –

the river over the fence.

 

Making a snail

come out to dinner –

a song thrush shells out.

 

Making a flash of colour,

quickly catching an eye –

a jay, fast moving.

 

Making no sound at all

– an owl (eyes shut)

awaits the moon.

 

Making light and dark

ripples through the air –

starlings moving as one.

 

Making all aware

of evening’s onset –

a blackbird clucks

again and again

again and again.

 

 

 

C.F. Tunnicliffe - Yellow Catkins