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Volume VIII - Book I

Paper Flowers

A Miscellany Of Haiku

N.K.Tointon 93/95

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These poems are dedicated to:

Hany,
Patrick,
David,
David,
David,
Paul,
Paul,
Bill and Ann,
Tony,
and Tony. 

Index

ii	Preface

Part I - A Miscellany Of Haiku

1	1.	Spring
2	2.	Summer
3	3.	Autumn
4	4.	Winter
5	5.	Plum Blossom I
6	6.	Plum Blossom II
7	7.	Plum Blossom III
8	8.	Plum Blossom IV
9	9.	Walking Along The Beach
10	10.	Meditating In The Mountains
11	11.	Watching Heavenly Bodies
12	12.	On The Road
13	13.	In The Country
14	14.	In The Big City
15	15.	Brisbane, September 1994 - Twelve Haiku
16	16.	A Dozen Haiku For The New Year (1994):
		"Reflections On The Mirror Of Life"
17	17.	Supplement A: Through The Seasons
19	18.	Supplement B: The Bottom Drawer
20	18.	Supplement C: The Burial Plot

Part II 

22.	20. One Summer In The Blue Mountains 1994/95
	(One hundred haiku written over 24 hours 2-3.1.95)

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Preface
	
	Collected here is a miscellany of haiku. Some are worth reading a second time in order to discover how 'what is said' is not necessarily 'what is meant.' But, then, what is meant? How can we question a text that by nature is mute? Can we interrogate a text without doing violence to it? It is fashionable these days to forget the poet, but, in their place, can we find the apparent intent of that text, regardless of how we interpret that text, without also finding the sense, or illusion, of an apparent person? Can we be completely wrong in this act of interpretation? We may well be wrong but we can never be completely wrong! The perception of the text as a certain 'type' of text already guarantees that this process can never be completely mis-taken. A joke, e.g., is understood as a joke when it is seen to be in the form of a joke and is enjoyed as a joke. Otherwise, there would be no point in telling it and, equally, no point in listening to it if its primary intent is to be received as a joke. Now, in the performance of the joke, the joker sets you up - creates a setting, sets out a certain vision, then trips you up and you laugh at the unexpected-expectedness, or the expected-unexpectedness, of this instance of this genre, assuming the successfulness of the teller in telling the joke and the apparent intrinsic humour of that joke. In a similar measure all meaning is translated through such a process of intended intentional expression, a process centered in processes of iteration and re-iteration. The apparent intentional content intended by that author being expressed and received through the processes of iteration within the text and between texts in so far as no text can be 'poured' without some pre-existing sense of genre. In much the same way a joke is told and understood, or not understood. Any text, be it a haiku or a shopping list, hopefully sets itself out to be understood before the receptive gaze of an audience, or a variety of audiences, even if that audience was merely the author themselves. The trick is in perceiving the relative merit of this process. Hopefully, the author is not too unkind to leave their text as a text that is virtually unapproachable. Its understanding rewarding the reader with an excess of value beyond that invested in its reading. Alas, or perhaps thankfully, the writer is never in complete control of their texts and it is through the associative suggestion of other readings that a text may further enhance itself, sometimes through other readings not necessarily unintended. But, does not this enhancement of the text, through subjective evocational processes, perhaps lead to the possibility of an excess of apparent hermeneutic value not necessarily justified by the relative merit, or lack of merit, of that text? It is necessary to perceive this excess of value as also being that which is intersubjectively demonstratable, i.e., as that which can be experienced and demonstrated, more or less, as of the same form and of the same degree by others who carefully read that text in its meta-textually indicated manner of presentation, or rather, re-presentation. Does not the poet in their completion of a poem, well thought off by themselves, wish, usually, to read it to other souls who, hopefully, will also see the information, merit and nature of that text in a similar fashion, and, therein, through this process of communion, arrive at a general, positive confirmation for that poet of their own evaluation of that text? Such a text for that poet being now no longer `their text' (unless privately re-appropriated and altered?)!
	It is my hope, in what ever fashion these haiku may be read, that they give at least some small degree of the pleasure that I found and experienced in writing them. If in this I am successful, in some measure, I am grateful for the fruitful, and artful, struggles of my attentive reader and wish them all the best in their further readings, and mis-readings, of these miniature texts - pale reflections of the 'text of the phenomenal world' that writing, with a mocking laugh, can only echo and pre-echo. 
	Wishing my reader all the best in their interpretation of these miniature poems and that my reader will not find themselves too tortured in their attempts to interrogate and unravel these fragile texts,
						 			Noël Tointon, Leura, 15.7.95.

P.S: Please note my mis-use of the convention of the apostrophe in the syllabic contraction of words. In these poems, in the use of dialect-contractions, I have indicated the presence of the same with the use of the apostrophe without the deletion of the necessary vowel, etc. The frequent use of this device, as normally exercised, would have resulted in a large number of unusual looking contractions and so not to disturb the visual reading of these texts I have indicated the use of a contraction without the deletion of the necessary vowel. E.g., the word `flower' can have a two syllable reading and a one syllable reading. When the latter is necessary for the preservation of the correct number of syllables per line the contraction has been indicated by `fl'ower.' I have used this non-conventional use of this convention in previous books and have been rightly criticized in this regard. In a prose poem situation where the natural flow of diction may, or may not, be able to dictate the intended reading I have been forced to adopt this method so as to ensure the correctly intended dialect-reading of the text when attention to such detail was thought necessary. 
     Noël, Re-edited: 1.9.95.

Volume VIII - Book I

Paper Flowers: A Miscellany Of Haiku

Part I

1.  Spring

1.  A porcelain frog
beside pond attracts a mate - 
a winking gold-fish.

2.  Lyrebirds scratching leaves,
collecting firewood in mounds.
No need for burn-offs.

3.  Behind floppy ferns
I watch the wee goldfish play
games of hide and seek.

4.  Like attracts unlike
and like: a pot of honey
mobbed by flies, and bees.

5.  Fl'owering seeds, seeding 
flowers, which comes first - who cares,
when such blooms are picked?

6.  Although now silent,
and the re-dug pond is still,
absent frogs were heard.

7.  The swaying pine tree
sweeps the dark cloud from the sky
helped by Spring-time rain.

8.  Still cold these mornings,
pussy willow buds in gloves,
waiting for the dawn.

9.  Coiled in garden hose,
the young snake felt safe, until
suddenly turned on.

10. If the grasshopper
didn't sing it would be walked
upon in the grass.

11. Spring rain - Spring cleaning;
new trees, new needles, new cones;
that fresh smell of pine.

12. Weeds celebrating
that time of year to party;
getting drunk and stoned.

2. Summer

1.  The well tanned lizards
crossing the orange gravel
ain't saying hello.

2.  Cool summer showers,
noisy pond must be boiling,
radioactive.

3.  Ah, causurinas!
Mist christening christmas trees,
each tip dripping dew.

4.  The baby gold fish 
protected by watching cat
from the kingfisher.

5.  Old, shy apple tree.
Copulating butterflies.
Blushing profoundly.

6.  Flying through the air
wisteria seeks new supports
after wings were clipped.

7.  Currawongs chorus
with calls like Xmas carols,
like this time last year.

8.  A strong, high stone wall
won't stop uninvited guests
floating on the breeze.

9.  Glorious sunset.
Barely sighted while I read.
Until its too late!

10. Butterflies in love;
in pairs, twosomes and threesomes.
Who will dance with whom?

11. Fly this way, that way,
the dragonflies taking turns
between well earned rests.

12. Insects in a cloud.
An orgy of hot passions.
So when will it rain?

3. Autumn

1.  Unseen spider webs,
now waving to each other 
through the swirling mist.

2.  On dark, busy road
moving mouse stops. Thankfully,
only a dead leaf.

3.  A grounded leaf, up
and down, re-animated
by a grasshopper.

4.  Lilypad flipped back,
like a sardine tin showing
a row of stunned carp.

5.  After Autumn sh'owers,
dotted with plum blossom light,
drips waiting to drop.

6.  Falling leaves, chapters
in an ancient book, a text
well read, well quoted.

7.  The leaves paper ground.
Illuminated parchment.
Wiped clean in the snow.

8.  A red dragonfly,
a green water-lily leaf,
old friends by the Fall.

9.  Flying from the trees -
flocks of birds? An abrupt breeze -
falling to the ground?

10. Shivering bamboo?
Its not Winter; heard sighing,
and not keeping still.

11. Hear first drops of rain?
Early lizards in the leaves.
Licking beads of dew.

12. A picnic for carp;
overcast, a touch of rain
and a swirling mist.

4. Winter

1.  Dirty storm clouds form, 
then crystal clear drops of rain
mixing in the mud.

2.  Surface of pond cracks
under weight of hungry bird.
Fish seen but still safe.

3.  Yuletide Xmas tree:
the pine cones in the sun set
have just been switched on.

4.  Cold Winter this year!
Ears feel like they are burning.
But the fire's inside.

5.  Under the branches
the trees seem to've forgotten
that its stopped raining.

6.  Black-green cockatoos
fighting over the pine cones
already mangled.

7.  Under the lilies
sleepy carp communicate
reading the ripples.

8.  A grey world sweetened
with glist'ening crystals of frost,
candied leaves on path.

9.  The falling snow flakes
holding hands on the branches
of the outstretched trees.

10. Despite the Summer
the withered orange stayed green
in its furry coat.

11. Heavenly marbles,
a dangerous game to lose
in this wild weather.

12. Swift light'ening sword play.
The clash of flashing metal
when tin roof was struck.

5. Plum Blossom I

1.  My brilliant plum trees,
so wonderful can hardly
bear to look at them.

2.  Looking through window
find a full moon part eclipsed,
plum trees still glowing.

3.  Now in the twilight
winter has again returned
to the old plum tree.

4.  Today drank green tea
watching this year's plum blossom,
what more can I say.

5.  Snow on the branches,
flurries around the backyard,
flying plum blossom.

6.  A savage winter,
the blossom dropping quickly,
the snow tinged with blood.

7.  Fish nibbling blossom;
see their hazy reflection
dusted with pollen.

8.  Hazy plum blossom;
fish nibbling their reflection
dusted with pollen.

9.  The fly wipes its bum
on pale, pink, perfumed tissues.
Ah, such luxury!

10. An orchestra tunes
to an universal `A.'
Bees in the blossom.

11. Falling plum blossom
amid the flurry of snow,
who's dancing with whom?

12. Early butterflies 
landing on the pale blossom
of the fragile plum.

6. Plum Blossom II

1.  In the rain blossoms
washed an even brighter white
when the sun came out.

2.  Cold blooms reluctant
to fall, then rest following
in an avalanche.

3.  Rocky sandstone soil
transmuted into blossom,
soon plums hiding stones.

4.  Heavy with blossom
the branches soon bowing to 
the inev'itable.

5.  Orgasmic tensions.
Plum trees dusted with pollen.
Twitching in the breeze.

6.  Acts of best'ial sex.
Humming plum trees dance with bees,
flies, other insects...

7.  Sartor'ial plum trees
no longer look near naked.
White dress, tinged with green...

8.  Expensive wedding:
Crowded rows, blossom in lace,
sho'wered with confetti.

9.  Discarded petals.
Pollen stains on the stone path.
Small, pregnant plums... Ah!

10. The blossom is like
a fine white, lace handkerchief
catching Winter's colds...

11. In the thick white mist
ghostly blossom remind me
of this year's Winter.

12. Alas, missed blossom;
sunny weekend - week of winds.
But, some blooms late too!

7. Plum Blossom III

1.  Before these plums here
ornamental blooms next door.
Mere icing on cake.

2.  Linen table cloth,
supported by these branches,
waiting for dessert...

3.  Dark skies through curtain.
Blossom window upon weather.
Will it snow tonight?

4.  So spontaneous.
Bursts forth without prediction.
Blossom like haiku.

5.  On path to tea house,
round, pollen dusted pavers
swirling with petals.

6.  More subtle than tea:
a garden of plum blossom
on a hot, still day...

7.  Soon to be seated...
between the trees guests arrive...
careless where they sit...

8.  In arch perfect snap.
Through the thinning blossom see 
neighbour watching too.

9.  Outside, plum blossom
have fallen; defying time
in vase, until bumped.

10. On ground the petals 
look so fragile, yet, en masse,
paint this Winter scene.

11. Pale, fluttering wings.
Now green, as less fickle friends
nestle on plum trees.

12. On a one night stand.
Lovers of blossom sensing
the gathering storm...

8. Plum Blossom IV

1.  A clearing night-sky.
Through the shivering prunus
fleeting points of light.

2.  An early Springtime?
Fruit bats land on the plum trees.
Look disappointed.

3.  Against the night-sky
plum tree branches still look like
leafy skeletons.

4.  Falling plum blossom.
Cannot last out the whole week.
Welcome weekend breeze.

5.  Plum petal blessings
sticking to those trees and rocks
just after it rained.

6.  Predicting blossom,
boiling tea; art forms excelled
when brewed together.

7.  Moments of pregnant
stillness in midst of blossom;
only eyes blinking.

8.  Last year for a day.
This year coming between storms.
Such a faithful friend.

9.  Such subtle perfume;
in the afternoon stillness,
rushing over you.

10. Fallen plum flowers
and the discarded tea-leaves
mixing on the ground.

11. Through the tea-house door
hear the bees in the blossom.
Forget I'm alone.

12. Remember old friend.
Have a second cup of tea.
Watching petals fall.

9.  Walking along the Beach

1.  Rabbits in the dunes.
The distant storm emitting 
white light without sound.

2.  The sound of one wave
eternally falling is
the sound of no-sound.

3.  Travelling spring waves 
going up and going down,
just going nowhere.

4.  At end of runway
the seabirds simulating
that probable crash.

5.  Monogamous birds
crossing the silvery sea
chasing their shadows.

6.  Seated in the surf,
a row of shiny boulders,
now diving for fish.

7.  The small fishing boat
looked like an island, `till it
disappeared from view.

8.  Briefly imagined;
a beach of pine needles, cones
and the roar of waves.

9.  Footprints on the beach
soon washed away in the tides.
Recalled, forgotten...

10. The waves rising up
like silver fish, alas, caught
in the churning surf.

11. Between the beach flags
strutting gulls stake out the sand.
Moved on by life-guards.

12. Where does the beach tire
of this succession of waves?
Only along edge!

10. Meditating in the Mountains

1.  Nervous butterflies.
Sipping valerian fl'owers
while having a rest.

2.  Feather in its cap.
Bonny fl'ower with butterfly
swaying in the breeze.

3.  High above the leaves.
Busy butterflies party.
Sipping sweet nectar.

4.  Let jasmine tea cool
before sitting. Sprinkled with
rose petals, alas...

5.  Beautiful landscape.
A haiku ev'ery valley?
Echoes echoing!

6.  Each Summer the smell 
of bush on fire, and each Fall
the township in flames.

7.  Backyard with new fence.
Still casts same shadow, alas,
without character.

8.  Sleek frog jumps slowly
out of sight, not out of mind.
Fat snake still chewing.

9.  Spidery threads caught
a soft breeze unravelling
the way of all things.

10. In the depths of Fall
the old woman dies alone
enshrouded by leaves.

11. Winter seems colder
when the old pine tree shivers
and creaks in the wind.

12. These grey, wet mushrooms 
adorned with falling petals 
think they are flowers.

11. Watching Heavenly Bodies

1.  Fragrant veranda.
I swallow a drunken moon
in a champagne glass.

2.  Orange, orange sun
squeezed each morning for breakfast,
drunk in the eve'ning.

3.  Shame that folk feel shame.
Full moon rising hesi'tantly 
in a fluffy skirt.

4.  Waited for the moon
to go round the garden pond
hemmed in the corner.

5.  Slowly going cold,
suddenly found tea was drunk
by the smiling moon.

6.  On the window sill
a bowl of purple lemons,
under the new moon.

7.  No more sun, nor moon,
only the twinkling of stars
like this old lantern.

8.  Heavenly bodies
exercising ev'eryday
but for what purpose?

9.  Grassy plains for miles.
The only prominent point
moon with hidden smile.

10. There, like an old moon
mirrored upon the water,
find my aging face.

11. The blossom falling
like comets, the ripe fruit like
falling meteors.

12. Heavenly bodies
upon the beach, suns and moons,
oh, and the odd star!

12. On the Road

1.  The kookaburras
were told to party elsewhere
by the currawongs.

2.  Nature echoing...
falling moths faking Autumn
in the Spring-time mist.

3.  This town looks like home
under thick blanket of snow
and shrouded in mist.

4.  From the cliffs look down,
a bird's eye view of the trees,
watch myself landing.

5.  Road's under repair.
To the sound of grasshoppers
the workmen take lunch.

6.  Young cycling smoker
bent over the rattling frame
of his wobbling bike.

7.  The smoking cyclist
wobbled on his way down street
on his creaking frame.

8.  All space becomes shrunk
but small hills become grander
behind veils of mist.

9.  The rain couldn't wash
the sweat from this gathered clump
of toiling lilies.

10. Speeding along road
my shadow goes to the East.
Alas, heading West.

11. Broken twigs on path.
Forming many hexagrams.
Only see the `Fall.'

12. The road forever
stretches there in front of me.
Thank goodness for that!

13.  In the Country

1.  Cold rains wash away 
all delusions of grandeur.
Frogs no longer heard.

2.  Sailing through the air,
which end of the leaf is stern, 
and which end is bow?

3.  In the bright torch light
frogs in wet ivy not seen,
only eyes blinking.

4.  Hate both wet grasses
bowing around my ankles
and those drooping trees.

5.  Hear leaves shivering.
Do they feel icy cold too?
Same sounds after dawn!

6.  A song bird singing.
The song then ends in silence.
Should I clap or wait?

7.  A fine blend of tea,
perfumed amber - label lost;
tastes even better!

8.  The kookaburra 
thinks he's funny when it seems
he's laughing at me.

9.  Waterfall dribbles
in the rain, within the hour
sounding eloquent.

10. Qu'ietly drinking tea.
A welcome lizard enters,
one bow dispensed with.

11. Each year blackberries,
apples ripen together
in the perfect pie.

12. Countryside asleep.
Just before the dawn, awakes.
Those working roosters!

14. In the Big City

1.  Between tall buildings
a bright butterfly falters
having lost its way.

2.  Bins of rotting fruit,
too many shops in a row
selling the same thing.

3.  Ant wanders around
small stupa on study desk;
earning merit for whom?

4.  Endangered wildlife
stalked by the cat intently
watching the tv.

5.  Defeat stares at you,
white pieces removed not black
from this aging beard.

6.  A new game of chess,
black pieces removed not white
from this resigned beard.

7.  Live near the airport,
it seems rich folk just fly past
on their way to work.

8.  The year Two Thousand -
travel; avoid the tourists,
and fly overseas.

9.  Forgot my walkman,
shall listen to the blow flies
crackling out a tune?

10. Barking of the dog
does not wake the butterfly
dreaming thoughts of flight.

11. We feed the fat ducks
but have nothing left over
for the hungry flies.

12. Drunken revellers.
The purple daisies swaying.
Moonlit between sh'owers.

15. Brisbane, September 1994 - Twelve Haiku

1.  Smoke, settling like mist
in the valleys, blanketing
weary fire-fighters.

2.  White hair and handbag,
elderly Chinese lady
looks so Australian.

3.  `Two story' houses,
one latticed floor waiting for
a breath of fresh air.

4.  Ferries ply their trade,
frozen in time, defying
currents of fashion.

5.  Those high rise towers
with their planted palms and ferns
rebuild the river.

6.  `Strange' flowers and plants
have re-invaded even
the city center.

7.  Post-modernist sheen
in office architecture
mirrored in hair styles.

8.  The Transit Center
has a hotel high above
toilets and showers.

9.  The poor standing out
in the busy middle class,
submerged and sidelined.

10. Street corner statues
imitate the passersby
chatting together.

11. Old sandstone buildings
looking grander in the wake
of those that followed.

12. Brisbane's like a book,
find the busy library
beside the Town Hall.

16. A Dozen Haiku for the New Year (1994): 
"Reflections on the Mirror Of Life"

1.  The storm pounds the door,
then clouds break, through its window
sun rudely enters!

2.  Pregnant moon sails on
beneath white capped waves faking
this berth out to sea.

3.  The greeting of friends;
kookaburras, currawongs
nesting in the trees.

4.  Dragonflies above,
dragonfish below, meeting
for lunch in between.

5.  Welcome visitors!
Those thousand smiling faces 
that blossom each year.

6.  First cherries tasted;
with such joy, with such promise,
although still bitter.

7.  Autumn trees give birth
to leafy litter, crackling,
bleeding underfoot.

8.  The comp'any is good
on a golden Summer's beach;
sinking sun, stars, sand...

9.  The thick, silent fog
has a beating heart dripping
down through the drain pipe.

10. While washing its white,
wise-looking whiskers cat trains 
for its retirement.

11. Sagging web engraved -
the mist catching the spider
beneath an old leaf.

12. A `new' cemet'ery;
removed by the highwaymen,
tombstones remembered.

13. In the gust of wind
rubbish dances on the street
as the new year dawns.

17. Supplement A: Through the Seasons

1.  The bee on target,
or, has fl'ower achieved its aim?
Dancing with Other.

2.  Like those traffic lights -
return of springtime fol'iage.
Soon amber, then red.

3.  Without a complaint,
the flowers hear me murmur,
in between the bees.

4.  Sounds like a cat,
that dog refuses to give me
the ball and the match.

5.  Spirit of this tree
now penetrates the forest
when its in full fl'ower.

6.  Cockroaches dining
upon the park bench, couples
kissing on the grass.

7.  Dripping sweat icing
the choc'olate icecream, bald head
darkly glistening.

8.  Circling city night.
The fruit-flies and fruit-bats meet
without competing.

9.  Cold sky is steel blue.
Sighing sea is di'amond clear.
Myself - ground between.

10. On bridge rails too high
to see, from bus, falls over
signposted river.

11. A primeval world,
great waterfalls everywhere:
rusted guttering.

12. Sh'owers of night-time rain,
moon burst forth ten thousand times,
waiting to be picked.

13. After night-time sh'owers
moon imaged ten thousand times,
white cheeks puffed with pride.

14. The flowers like tents,
blown away in the fresh winds,
like the weekend camp.

15. Some old newspapers,
one more time redelivered,
by kids, page by page.

16. Fresh breezes ruffling
the puddles from recent rain,
ripples made vis'ible.

17. Remnant leaves flagging
like clothes on a Winter's tree;
washed, hung out to dry.

18. Fire reburnt the woods,
twigs upon the soil, and mist
between sky and snow.

19. Mild sun melting snow.
Might Summer come as quickly.
Blaring glare fading.

20. Black clouds washing sea.
Giving it quite a polish
in the shiny surf.

21. Plastic daffodils
befriended for a few days
by perfumed jonquils.

22. Leaves upon the snow:
a late Autumn - leaves with snow:
an early Winter?

23. Backwards and forwards,
wind blows in a tug of war,
then falling in snow.

24. Thunder and light'ening,
fighting for your attention,
like distant gunfire.

18. Supplement B: The Bottom Drawer

1.  Plip! The rising fish
disappearing back into 
the sound of water.

2.  The town-hall clock strikes six.
Carillons of plum blossom
strike the air with scent.

3.  After the shopping
missed last bus; waiting for me 
the wisteria.

4.  My shadow spreading
across the garden surface,
scattering lizards.

5.  In the soft dawn light
pale pink mist of diosma
waving in the breeze.

6.  New dog doesn't bark
like old one, but neighbour's call
still sounds just the same.

7.  E'vening birds quiet.
All those screeching cicadas
are far too noisy.

8.  So fickle the flo'wer.
Look closely, let your nose smell
how the year's painted.

9.  Dreaming of dessert
beneath the wisteria.
Such fragrant snow flakes.

10. Competing perfumes
pervade the backyard garden
in a tug of war.

11. Beneath the jasmine
drinking tea. How the flavour
improves with comp'any.

12.  From the bottom drawer
an old manuscript re-read,
fresh with new meaning.

19. Supplement C: The Burial Plot

1.  Some haiku fearing 
resurrection, awaiting
reincarnation.

2.  Dead fl'owers for the dead,
but please, a healthy pot plant
for the sick person.

3.  Through the wire netting
round backyard near naked man
looks self-imprisoned.

4.  Sad reality
of the suburbs, mere lines drawn
on the same cell floor?

5.  The dead pensioner
wanted to travel to town
on the day he died.

6.  She loved her garden.
Roses in front-yard grew well
that sad year she died.

7.  Rows and rows of graves
like houses in the city.
Just one more suburb?

8.  Inner city folk
can only dream how quiet
suburbs are by night.

9.  The sound of the scouts 
preceded them, just trampled
plants were left behind.

10. Too many patients,
the doctor had a breakdown.
They all got better.

11. Love the sick person,
hate the disease; but, alas,
cancer took patient.

12.  Summer funeral:
In the downpour the flowers
came back from the dead.

13.  Very sad fun'eral:
In the central pew husband
only looked happy.

14. On Buddhist altar
a bowl of shiny apples
soon to be tasted.

15. The man in the moon,
or its a perfumed woman,
smiling so sadly?

16. Urban street lighting
imitating Milky Way
around Centrepoint.

17. Flying above stars.
Night-time passengers landing,
closely watching ground.

18. When will the great flag
point the way to where the wind
has its origins.

19. On shabby front porch
of the old house, looking proud,
a cat licks itself.

20. Small park made sacred;
Aborigines seated
in perfect circle.

21. Leaves singing farewell.
Are they happy, are they sad
these parting spirits?

22. Rugged river gums,
these native trees surviving 
on the city streets.

23. A setting sun dies.
See my old, faithful shadow
drawn out and fading.

24. The burial plot:
paper fl'owers on poet's grave - 
remembered haiku.

Part II - 20. One Summer in The Blue Mountains (1994/95)

(One hundred odd haiku written over 24 hours 2-3.1.95)

The Drought

1. Sprayed by waterfalls,
in the shadows of the cliffs,
the rainforest shrinks.

2. Tourists ride by coach,
Aussies take the train and bus
to view Three Sisters.

3. In classic tearooms
diff'erent classes of folk mix
between the tables.

4. Summer waterfalls
best imagined with a splash
from a painter's brush.

5. The monastery 
contemplates the mountain view
from behind those trees.

6. Where the cliff begins
is where it must truly end
and we should know that.

7. Suddenly, cliff edge!
Ah! How very impressive 
what cannot be seen!

8. Was the view worth it?
When the old trampers walked down
below those lookouts?

9. Reading her guide book…
a rare butterfly lands on
endangered orchid.

10. Contorted outcrops,
weathered limestone set with veins,
pulsing with red ants.

11. The cherry trees wilt
while the plum trees imitate
those Autumn colours.

12. Old plums - like pendants,
nectarines - in necklaces;
youthful, indiscreet.

13. Bargains advertised.
Wayside stalls with free produce.
Fruit trees beside road.

14. Summer company.
Sipping green tea by the pond
with some mosquitoes.

15. The long Summer drought.
Complaining crickets are heard
by silent lizards.

16. During the sunset
distant vista contracts to
that beneath one's feet.

17. In the sheer darkness
mere formality dissolves
as old friends hold hands.

18. When the breeze died down
the perfume of the hakea
swept in from nowhere.

19. So highly perfumed,
mint bushes not yet in fl'ower,
distilled by the sun.

20. A long road-trail snakes
across the untouched bushland
scraping the landscape.

21. In the bright moonlight
resembling The Three Sisters
a row of tourists.

22. Under midday sun
a laughing kookaburra
smells an Englishman.

23. Beaten, fiery hot,
bronzed rocks looking smashed and cracked
with lichens peeling.

24. The snakes should survive
the long, dry, thirsty Summer.
Haven't seen one yet.

25. If you're lost, I hope 
a wombat keeps you comp'any.
But not in Summer!

26. Sun stokes the boiler.
Oil impregnated fuel.
De-lighting in fire.

27. Those English tourists
taking a Devonshire tea
in the Blue Mountains.

28. English gardens wilt
in the shade of eucalypts
before the drought ends.

29. Don't see the wildlife,
alas, rarely see the fox
and those feral cats.

30. A hot, dusty day!
But wet with this dripping sweat!
Long for a dry breeze!

31. Bush fires or dust clouds?
In the valley just a trace
of next day's heat haze!

32. Locked the garden gate,
turned the corner, sighted moon
perfumed with jasmine.

33. Finest things waver,
like twinkling stars shimmering;
filled with divine fire!

34. Possums need their fur,
even in the hottest month,
old plum trees quite sharp!

35. Solit'ary lizards
always out sunning themselves,
have no time to mate.

36. In nooks and crannies
the slick lizards copulate,
quickly, while blinking.

37. One vast orgasm,
nature out conjugating,
won't talk about it.

38. The herbs are seasoned.
Short, spicy, seedy life spent
huffing and puffing.

39. Mountain holidays.
Rocky ground too hot for ants.
Climb fruit trees instead.

40. Sweating over tea
without milk or sugar,
cat preferred the cake.

41. You should wear a hat
before bald patch in garden 
looks like a pumpkin.

42. In the humid heat
the backpackers look sexy;
sweating, half-naked.

43. I smile passing packs. 
My house is not on my back,
only my mortgage.

44. The sheen of the fly
leaves me open mouthed, only
for a moment though.

45. A hot, Summer moon
will appear more overweight
after a large meal.

46. The dried pine needles
sniffing, rustling in the breeze,
their scent exhaling.

47. A bed of flowers
snoozing under noonday sun,
blanketed with mulch.

48. New leaves practising;
looking limp, swooning before
next seasons' circuit.

49. Butterflies dancing
in pairs, threesomes and foursomes,
no wall-flowers here.

	-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The Breaking of The Drought

50. Fog in the valley,
heat haze over the canyon,
met by falling cloud.

51. Dry wind through the trees.
Empty thunder. Finally,
the rains answering.

52. Although mid-Summer
the rain paints a Winter scene;
with tourists in shorts.

53. The landslide softens
in the swaying waves of grass,
ferns, trees and lichens.

54. Dusty, sandstone flour
in the rain turns to dough, then,
circles of damper.

55. In the searing heat 
the native bush takes a nap,
waking with a wash.

56. No puffed-up mushrooms,
storm clouds picking up instead,
turning black with rain.

57. Fragrant boronia
washed out and then replaced by
the sweet smell of soil.

58. Sacred waterfall
rarely seen by travellers
and I thank the Gods.

59. Far more sacred than 
The Three Sisters, these falls blessed
with an Ind'ian name.

60. Such inspiration!
The heat of drought, and then rain,
between earth and sky.

61. A friendly tent with
two strangers who offer us
a hot cup of tea.

62. Birds going `cheep, cheep;'
imitating grasshoppers
invited for tea.

63. Blue agapanthus,
cut, bleeding a milky sap.
Blood knows no colour!

64. Loosening branches
on weather beaten wattles
grow old gracefully.

65. The black bats beckon
the night, creating shadows
in the ev'ening light.

66. Heated fruit desserts
before chilled garden salads
when, finally, rain!

67. Neighbour's dog tells me
that I am here trespassing
when I bark at it.

68. Coffee shops, book shops:
rain is good for business.
And sending postcards.

	-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

One Week After the Breaking of the Drought

69. Birds eat the top plums.
Snails taste fruit nearer the ground.
What's left becomes mine?

70. Remnant morning mist.
Small figures in the landscape.
See Chinese trav'ellers.

71. A long week of rain
and the ferns take to drinking,
looking very drunk.

72. Tree-ferns did not know.
whether to wave or to bow
when drought fin'ally broke.

73. Beside those cascades
the crowds of tourists follow
the steps down the track.

74. Rosellas eating
highly plumaged plums plopping
on the ground beneath.

75. I stopped poisoning
this year's great harvest of snails.
Wait for those bluetongues.

76. Punch holes in the fence
and let the natives dine on 
imported gardens.

77. A bunch of spiders
in delicate pink outfits -
grevillea in fl'ower.

78. Natives look the same?
The bland forest dotted with
purple irises.

79. Each year see further,
these older eyes noting those
diff'erent eucalypts.

80. Textures of the bush
transferred in paint to canvass
by local artist.

81. Swirling mist can see 
where it's going and I shall
let it guide me too!

82. No soul should say where
koalas have set up house!
We're not invited!

83. One more unknown bird
to test me, this book in hand,
now what is its name?!

84. In the sun shower
blushing plums had rouge all washed
over their faces.

85. What could be better,
eating rain washed nectarines?
With an umbrella!

86. In orchard backyard
two song birds tasting wet fruit
under drooping leaves.

87. Don't mature too quick!
Its water damaged fruit
that will ripen first!

88. In the Summer sh'owers
one lone, white waterlily
rises to bathe. Oooh!

89. The lonely bushman 
told not to hunt at night-time
by one hooting owl.

90. Echo Point misnamed
amid repeated babbling
of happy tourists.

91. A lone pine once grew
in the middle of the Park.
Burnt by fire-watchers.

92. Butterflies resting
for a while, on the branches,
under flapping leaves.

93. High rise apartments;
grass-tree fl'owers constructed by
soil, fire, rain and sky.

94. The falling feather
cannot fly by itself, but,
chased on by puppy.

95. The glowing sunset
is now reflected between
the rosy apples.

96. Those week old mushrooms
and that broken umbrella
have seen better days.

97. No standards for taste!
Those beautiful butterflies
sampling fallen plums.

98. "Let things grow for you."
Neighbour admires her first quince
from kitchen window.

99. The goldfish napping
under lily umbrellas
with tails for handles.

100. Misty rains set in,
forget all last week was hot,
burnt leaves wet the ground.

101. One hundred haiku
while I eat, wash the dishes,
discard the rubbish.

	-*-*-**-*-*-*