Haiku archive

a woodpecker’s thuds
quickly repeated trickle
t h r o u g h w o o d e n d i s t a n c e

Mark Goodwin

A sliver of moon,
breeze whispering with the trees,
owl calls haunt the night.

Mary Marken

Day 11 (Sunday 30 September)

Whinchats flit and whirr,
throwing out short jags of song
to tether the air.

Chris Jones

Quietly goes fox
while from treetops robins sing
hiding in plain sight

Fay Musselwhite

Day 10 (Saturday 29 September)

On the perfectly
Lateral branch, three blackbirds –
Three semi-quavers.

Matthew Clegg

a jenny wren gen
erates volts of song    the hedge
crack    ling quick hot notes

Mark Goodwin

Day 9 (Friday 28 September)

Jays on Winter Street
skaak and screech; pink as knuckles
in this flaying rain.

Chris Jones

Blue to lead the way,
a beak for splitting currents
and smashing molluscs.

Ruth Palmer

Day 8 (Thursday 27 September)

Listen: the cuckoo
has returned, the woods haunted
with her dark stories.

The warbler is still,
head cocked at an old nickname.
Mother.  Mother.

Rob Hindle

Day 7 (Wednesday 26 September)

Lament the morning,
bullfinch, bemoan its brittle
light so shy and cold

Angelina Ayers 

the lake lapping as
a heron scrapes his scythe-voice
against a stone sky

Mark Goodwin

Day 6 (Tuesday 25 September)

Green finch in silver
birch toasts the morning, body-
full of sweet notes.

Mary Marken

Up at five, blackbirds
chirr, shrill, chatter; tuning in
through all that crackle.

Chris Jones

Day 5 (Monday 24 September)

Heron

Tall feathered statue
waiting, motionless. One leg
hunched up; roosting poise.

Ruth Palmer

Curlew

Lone walker. West wind
flutes a blue note, curls it up.
Rud Hill. Haunted moor.

Andrew Myers

Day 4 (Sunday 23 September)

Tuxedo jokers
in claw-toed spats. Magpies
rattle like smokers’ lungs.

Abigail Flint

a soaring raven
drops her    crock-crock    it falls through
air into your ear

Mark Goodwin

Day 3 (Saturday 22 September)

Swifts shape a fly-by,
their high, riotous piercings,
and one year’s shot past.

Chris Jones

House sparrow, whittle
the smutty town air until
your whistle runs clear.

Angelina Ayers

Day 2 (Friday 21 September)

Woken by birdsong
I pull the cadences in
to drift off again

Fay Musselwhite

a young blackbird tips
the lovely jug of himself
his song spills through woods

Mark Goodwin

Day 1 (Thursday 20 September)

Two new haiku poems will be posted on Twitter (@Callhaiku) on each of the 11 days of the Festival of the Mind (20-30 September 2012). The poems will be subsequently re-posted on this Archive page; recordings of the poets reading their haiku will also be uploaded to our SoundCloud site.

One comment

  1. Excellent stuff; birds are endlessly fascinating.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s