Friday, October 14, 2011

the black

the black: Some deep coffee black early morning tired monk haikuish poems.

up snap and out in the black
rolling garbage cans
rain soaked blowing lids

robes soaked heavy wet
darkest country night
temple dog huddles

wet leaves cling
deep robe red
fall to temple floor

Abbess always wants to know.
Is it cold? For now...
winter robes wait


  1. Love the imagery you have created... can feel the dampness of the day.

  2. Wow, I could hear the lids clattering and feel the lashing rain. West Coast - East Coast - we know Rain and Wind. Love the living imagery in this poem. Love the subtitle SO MUCH!

  3. Your words really do take me to a different place and time. You have a great talent at picking out the exact sensory image to make it all so real: huddling temple dog, red robes, wet leaves give the shiver, the colour and the texture.

  4. Old Ollie,

    It seems like Tired Monk, senses the seasonal changes, together with a change of robe perhaps!


  5. an interesting glimpse into the seasons..enjoyed the subtle play of words ~

  6. Old Ollie ... I always love your words. These were particularly dark ... ;).

  7. Dear Brother Ollie - I remember the winter robes and the clattering bins! Lovely evocation.

    Are there any trees in your monastery? I have an Experiemntal Tree Plantation over in Exile (Sunday Trees). If you have a tree poem or would like to respond to my tree photo I would be honoured to add your sapling!

    Best wishes, Isabel

  8. bits of home and life. i recognize them. we watch the weather here, too, listen to the can roll, rub the dog, wade through the matted leaves:)



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