The ‘double, double rhyming haiku’.

Some of you may not be familiar with this unusual format that was popularised by Bart Mog back in the 60s or 70s when the west became especially interested in Japanese artistic expression. Just like all western attempts to assimilate eastern culture (Zen Buddhism is a classic example) the double, double rhyming haiku displays the total misunderstanding of the original intent in an attempt to make it palatable to foreign tastes (look what the English did to Indian food) and this one is no exception. An abomination, perhaps.

The rules are relatively obvious.

1. It must follow the traditional 5/7/5 pattern

2. It must be 6 lines (double haikus are, in fact, quite common).

3. It must be comprised of two seperate examples following the same rules and linked by a common theme.

4. It must be written by two different people.

This one belongs to myself and Meg, though it was originally inspired by Kate, here who, in turn, found her inspiration from D’verse, here. In this case the subject is the moon.


Missing you so much

Nights under the moon and such

So close I can touch

Your skin with my mind

Let this night the moonlight find

Us. Two of a kind


Looming in the sky
Makes me want to bay and howl
But I’m too uptight
So I’ll glance askance
At its lovely elegance
I’m sweetness and light

Rowing Uphill.

I have described myself before as a ‘God Fearing Atheist’. I don’t even really know what that means, but I like the sound of it. And just mentioning God in a poem somehow makes it sound more poetic and sincere. So I’ve mentioned Him here to see if that lends me a bit of artistic credibility.

This actually came via Kate, who wrote a poem about journeys and the great beauty that can be found in the journey itself. I agree entirely.

But if life is a journey I would argue that it may not always be a pretty one.


It’s all about the journey

It’s where you’ve been, not where you’re going

Now the river’s running fast

So much faster than I’m rowing

My life is overtaking me

Is that my past that’s passing by?

There’s glimpses of my childhood

In the corner of my eye

I know that I’ve done evil

That I don’t deserve to live

And that there is no God in heaven

With the power to forgive

As the sun that rose in front of me

Is setting from behind

I plead if God must take me

That he erase me from His mind

A Letter to the Editor – 44 more silly words

This is just laziness on my part. At This, that and the other reference was made to ‘killing two birds with one stone’ so I followed suit, although no actual birds were slaughtered in the making of this post. Cyranny introduced the word ‘scoundrelism’ and whilst I remain unconvinced that such a word even exists – I think, if it did, I would probably find examples of it in the morning news (the evening news is even worse, by the way). And having got away with just 44 words yesterday (quadrille?? I think someone else is inventing words …) I thought that I do so again. Or try to.

So it’s actually three birds with one post. Laziness, as I say.


Newspapers and television

Information’s supervision

Politicians’ indecision

Shaky stories


Pretty pictures

Blurring vision

Truth has had

A circumcision

Tales of rampant


Rape and murder


Buddy, this ain’t


Fodder for my


It’s either that

Or hypnotism

Please accept

My criticism

Only 44 silly words today

Because that’s the rule, apparently. And it has to be about the sky. That’s another rule. But there was no rule suggesting it could not be silly, or possibly meaningless. You can check the rules here, if you don’t believe me.

And here’s a thought. Right at this moment we all have sky above us. There’s only one sky. It’s the same sky for all of us, yet it is impossible for any two of us to look up and see exactly the same thing. Everything is about perspective.

Anyway ….


Look above

Pray for love

In this world or another

Bathe your head

In tears you’ve shed

For memories of your mother

Beg the sky

Tell me why?

Life has come to this

The sky shall open up for you

Carry you to Bliss.