Saturday, 5 December 2015


Haibun is Japanese in origin( Basho being its more prolific example thereof comprising a prose paragraph plus a haiku related thereto) in its English form the poetic aspect may also be a tanka,or other short imagist form ie a broken monoku, spaces or cinqku,cinquain crystalline etc (see my other blogs)

The haibun be a (standard,where haiku etc follows the prose) or (afterword where prose follows the haiku) or prose envelope (prose para haliku,para) verse envelope(haiku prose haiku) or interlaced (chorus, verse, chorus) or verse sequence (haiku,prose,haiku,haiku etc)
Here are some examples of mine whichare my copyright but  maybe used for educational purposes provided an acknowledgment is given and advice therof emailed to


The soft yellow streaked the terra cotta,shadowing the speckled sallow saffron

a bluish buff upon the cochineal;brilliant boneblack grizzled the engrain

citrine carnation as the fallow flaxen,rustic rubrical rainbow-tinted

the magenta mandarine;unseen the ultra-marine, tinged burnt sienna,

reflecting a golden flame of raw umbery upon the earth green;bright mosaic gold

mottled the sallow sorrel virent yellow,oak stained the pale apricot;while

blood red,reddish russetdotted the olive lind;freckled crimson,a chestnut maroon,

on fuchsias faded apple green as burnt rumber sank deep into its sanguine slumber.


I walk through the glade

abstractions enlighten me-

colour my rainbow

WINTER HAIBUN (Afterword )


shapes spread statuesque


foliage in Winter clothes-


melancholy me

BEAUTY a haibun verse envelope


togetherness lives

in the subtle scents of love-

as ego retreats


Beauty is something we see with individual eyes,only time can reveal imperfections of conceit.Deep within our soul resides attraction ,waiting,asleep yet longing to be aroused.Our need to be recognised,reciprocate and hold close.A certain something,intercourses between eyes,a novel read by a glance ,might last a lifetime.


across a room, looks

can indelibly imprint-

with love  at first sight

OF LIVES PAST a haibun prose envelope

Perfection is an illusive pastime ,an unending quest that hides delusion in uncharted waters on life's path.Distractions,obstacles spring up unannouced, by chance,opportunities deflate in despair.Again,again,the siren's call. beckons innocent naivety,nothing is simple one is alive.


uniquely ourselves

littered by our obsessions-

loneliness cries out


One is alive ,each day, breathing,eating living, yet separate, alone but part of another,blood smeared by genes linked ,chain by chain in generations pattern.We wait and wait in line,repeating the same mistakes,treading the same circle.Imaging progress is reality,pretending we are wise and certain.Never to wonder why!


When Spring comes again not the warmth..nor the rain

not the yellow ..nor the green not the grass or verdant scene;

not the winds or blossom bright not the showers or more daylight;

but hearing creation's new birth shouted aloud in sky and earth.

When Summer her beauty displays not short nights nor lengthy days

not vacations or tourist sights not the festivals nor village fetes

not the wildlife nor abour foliates but the garden all nature in flower,eye-catchingly dressed.When Autumn readies for harvest not her full silos nor baskets imprest not mellow vistas seen nor dressed trees, yellow-red not Indian Summer's embrace nor late coloured flower beds not Fall's living collage or wine newly pressed not for walks in the woods or nature's largesse but in thanksgiving ,daily blessed for all the Lord's bountifulness.



creations new birth

each season to us reveals

God’s love in action