Posts Tagged ‘group: haiku 575’

The Lady of the Lake

In Too lazy to assign a category on August 10, 2007 at 8:13 pm

“All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well”
— Lady Julian of Norwich.

The low, tree-fringed island is clamped between an overcast sky and the blackness of the lake. I swing the signal board on its pivot, to show its white face to the ferry. And wait.

Still tied up
a varnished boat
sunk in clear water

A punt appears from the distant ferry cottage among the reeds. They said she was the ferryman’s widow and a witch. A large woman, maybe in her sixties. Full breasts hang easily inside a long flower print dress. Bare feet and strong calves planted firmly on the poling platform. Her face sunburnt and rather coarse, with a fine down on her lip. But those eyes !

She drives the boat out into the lake.

Each thrust of her pole
the surge
the ripple
and the gliding silence

“What brings you to my island, then?”


Already aghast at her, the patrician voice shakes me. It has the deep flavours of a rich old wine. And her isle ? I stutter. “Now you ask, I do not know…”

In reply, she holds the dripping pole aloft. Then silence. She towers in the stern. I huddle in the bow, my straw boater tipped over my eyes. And then she begins to sing a wordless song, a kind of crooning in time with the long strokes of the pole. More at ease now, I unroll my tobacco pouch and tamp down the Gold Flake,

From the cherry wood bowl
across still water
a lingering blue drift

“Two hours ashore”, she says. ”You’ll not need more.”

Little remains of the ancient nunnery apart from a roofless chapel-of-ease.

Holy stoup
at a rain drop
the stagnant water trembles

The Foundress was a grand dame who passed her widowed years here as prioress. In the long grass I find a granite grave slab bearing her effigy.

Deeply incised
and lined with moss
she meets my stare

Her isle? In evening sunshine I sit, filled with wonder, in the ruined cloister. And, out of time, I write these lines.

By Ken Jones

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Picnic in the mist

In Too lazy to assign a category on August 6, 2007 at 10:07 pm

Picnic in the mist

rgdaniel uploaded this image to flickr, click the image and follow the link to the original page

picnic in the mist,

where have all the tourists gone,

table waits, alone

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In Too lazy to assign a category on August 6, 2007 at 10:02 pm

bathes in melted wax
sharing time

Takako Nagai (Tokyo)

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Haiku error messages

In Too lazy to assign a category on December 3, 2006 at 9:43 pm

Three things are certain:
Death, taxes, and lost data.

Guess which has occurred.

Everything is gone;
Your life's work has been destroyed.

Squeeze trigger (yes/no)?

Windows NT crashed.
I am the Blue Screen of Death.

No one hears your screams.


Seeing my great fault

Through darkening blue windows

I begin again


The code was willing,

It considered your request,

But the chips were weak.


Printer not ready.

Could be a fatal error.

Have a pen handy?


A file that big?

It might be very useful.

But now it is gone.

Errors have occurred.
We won't tell you where or why.

Lazy programmers.


Server's poor response

Not quick enough for browser.

Timed out, plum blossom.


Chaos reigns within.

Reflect, repent, and reboot.

Order shall return.


Login incorrect.

Only perfect spellers may

enter this system.

This site has been moved.
We'd tell you where, but then we'd

have to delete you.

Wind catches lily
Scatt'ring petals to the wind:

Segmentation fault

ABORTED effort:
Close all that you have.

You ask way too much.

First snow, then silence.
This thousand dollar screen dies

so beautifully.

With searching comes loss
and the presence of absence:

"My Novel" not found.


The Tao that is seen

Is not the true Tao, until

You bring fresh toner.


The Web site you seek

cannot be located but

endless others exist


Stay the patient course

Of little worth is your ire

The network is down

A crash reduces
your expensive computer

to a simple stone.

There is a chasm
of carbon and silicon

the software can't bridge

Yesterday it worked
Today it is not working

Windows is like that


To have no errors

Would be life without meaning

No struggle, no joy


You step in the stream,

but the water has moved on.

This page is not here.


No keyboard present

Hit F1 to continue

Zen engineering?


Hal, open the file

Hal, open the damn file, Hal

open the, please Hal


Out of memory.

We wish to hold the whole sky,

But we never will.

Having been erased,
The document you're seeking

Must now be retyped.

The ten thousand things
How long do any persist?

Netscape, too, has gone.


Rather than a beep

Or a rude error message,

These words: "File not found."

Serious error.
All shortcuts have disappeared

Screen. Mind. Both are blank.

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