(untitled)#67

.

everything is dust

lose one way – find another

weep with happiness

.

In response to Magical Mystery Teacher‘s haiku – Teacher Continue reading

Ninja Training

Waking very early, my young son calls me to his room because he’s seen “… a deer-fly on the land-rover”.

There is no land-rover: was this a dream? “No”, he says, “…over there on the radiator”.

There is no deer-fly. I put on the lights and search the room.

No fly.

Sensei wakes, joins us and tells how they, on waking early a few days earlier, unable to sleep, walked to the coast. Sensei says we should go – “We should all go!”

My son, unprompted, says we should go using ‘stealth’. He “…has been practising stealth…” to slip between here and there.

I reveal to my son our Ninja heritage. Our afternoons out doing Archery is really weapons training – our Ninja family weapon of choice. I tell him his siblings have already embarked upon their Ninja training, but that he is yet to start. Perhaps he is now old enough to begin.

I suggest that we should use our early morning walk as an opportunity for my to start his Ninja training – and we do!

 

 

 

In dark-silent paths we moon-light walk

Where shadows tread and quietly talk

Of stealth and movement freeze and dance

Between the sleepers each flows a chance

We stop and look then quietly ride

Undetected twixt each tree’s shadow-slide

To arrive at last where we will reach

This night’s lesson – upon the beach

Not leaving footsteps upon the sand

We walk and run and jump and land

Our only witness the roaring waves

The towering dunes and quiet glades

Quick-silvered moonlight – each wave-crash

Drowns our movement and each bright flash

Distracts the attention of one that strolls

At this early hour, but away we roll

Not silent – muffled and mistakes lost

Amid the crash of wave-foam tossed

As cicada announces the coming day

Inland we slip with the pale sea haze

With steady sureness as dew’s drip

With the breeze to our home we quietly slip

And all the way play our silent games

You crouch by the bamboo – my shadow framed

But coming our way – why it’s Superman!

With his cape he sways onwards feeling grand

Looking up from his stop, feeling fully relieved

Superman meets two Ninja’s – why you’d never believe!!

That moment we choose to step into the light

He stops startled – a moment – considers the sight

Black figures stand frozen invoking power stance

Ninjas! This day and age – just what is the chance?

His Adam’s Apple suppresses his up-rising fear

He considers his life and just what he holds dear

With a tear in his eye, he blinks, shaking his head

The ninjas have gone … if they ever existed

“Gotta stop drinking this stuff ” – stumbling on

Looks at his bottle and then he is gone

22/08/2013

(untitled)#60

.

walking cobbled streets

grown from Templar’s founding – now

echo with their ghosts

.

ancient towns standing

testament to existence

buildings as headstones

.

which ones shall we slay –

will god recognise his own

let his will be done

.

is not mother church

a place of refuge – so lies

each genderless body

.

even now decay

models durability –

our impermanence

.

Now a modern city of ~ 75,000 people, the Massacre of Beziers took place in Languedoc, France, in 1209 A.D. The city was sacked by crusades against the ‘heretic’ Cathars and accounts suggest up to 20,000 were put to the sword.

Churches were broken open and those that had sought refuge were slain – up to 7,000 in the Church of St. Magdalene. The crusaders did not respect the supposed inviolable sanctity of church ground.

It is alleged that when asked how to recognise the heretics from the townsfolk, the Abbot replied ‘kill them all – god will recognise his own’.

Rather than God and Satan, Cathars considered that perhaps there were two gods – one good, one bad. The papal church viewed this as Satanism. The Cathars viewed the humans as the encapsulated souls of genderless angels. Perhaps they were right for the subject of sex returns to plague the modern day Church.

We shall never know their true beliefs as Catharism was destroyed along with most of its relics and works and their religion likely forms the root of the word ‘catharsis’ – to discharge pent-up emotions, probably from the torture that was used to encourage the betrayal of friends and family, a lack of zeal for which was considered to be a lack of commitment for the One True Church – or to expunge a problem.

(untitled)#58

.

oh – don’t miss a beat

my heart of glass – fragile!

encapsulated

.

plants remaining still

while all about lay strewn

fallen petals – shards

.

oh sky overhead –

where is heaven for flowers

seven colours meld

.

falling from the sky

rinsing spectra from the clouds

to lie upon snow

.

snowflakes upon snow –

trails I once walked – blanketed

run-ways to the stars

.

(untitled)#57

.

with a lantern search

the gloom of this world – darker

for a deathless me

.

behind a black veil

a life-full of dark secrets

will you choose: I do

.

an arranged marriage

will we make an old couple

wedded to this world

.

dew to quench the fire

shall I ever be alone

do not fear to leave

.

in this shadow world –

this nether-nether land –

is there still magic?

.

Contributed to the haiku-heights theme: Dusk Continue reading

(untitled)#56

.

so patiently does

oblivion wait for me

as I wait for you

.

bravely tempting – fate!

come and catch me – I’m calling

time through your fingers

.

shadow existence

oh – come again in a breath:

gone in a heart-beat!

.

 

Contributed to the haiku-heights theme: Death Continue reading