in paris. memories
of you surface. your face. mine
pretty . city . light
.
haïku
Category Archives: Vintage Postcard
eloquence
you touch my weathered
rib
bones in sequence
playing
all the old tunes
again
.
not quite
a haiku
ordinary love
going extinct
Haiku
.
Grotesque hawkers call
Picturesque veg, fruit, fish, meat
Roses, violets, sweets
.
n.b
The raucous noise of market callers used to fill the streets of London and other large towns in England. Each one distinct; gratingly musical calls to buy the fare on offer. Sadly, it’s all going silent as other ways of marketing vie for our attention.
that afternoon
Haiku
As I held my breath
He licked the sweat off my arm
A brief waste of time
barbaraturneywielandpoetess 