United Kingdom

  • I never understood the change in name; the highway to my hometown ‘upgraded’ to the A47 for a few miles. Traffic signs have been modified though the potholes remain unfilled.

    new road
    behind the wheel
    old thoughts

  • scorched field not a blade in sight

                       THF: A Sense of Place, 19th Sep. 2018

  • war zone
    dark consequences
    of poison gas


    garden bonfire
    the scent of autumn
    in my hair


    beneath the hedge
    under a primrose
    a slug


    wild garlic
    scents the woodland path


    midnight chimes—
    snow erases
    yesterday's footprints

    (in collaboration with Suraja M Roychowdhury)



    old year departs
    on a tide of trouble—
    Brexit rings in


  • for dad
    the smaller cairn
    on the summit

    Frogpond #39.3

  • empty tomb
    the footprints of those
    who came before

  • on the window a housefly dreaming of dirt


    bullet points counting on fingers and thumbs


    muzak killing time


    she talks on and on about the weather the beat of central heating in the background


  • dull fish eye on ice


    wasp in circles every orifice


    where the light can't reach the mandrill's rear


    carefully removing the mackerel's backbone after death


    today’s tablets
    the Thirty-Six Views
    of Mount Fuji

  • Japanese garden my mother clings onto my arm

    Blithe Spirit #17/4 (Dec-07), Failed Haiku #31 (Jul-18) and Prune Juice #25 (Jul-18).

  • reading poetry
    all that white space
    in the clouds


    the cries of polished shoes
    on polished linoleum


    April morning
    in the dream
    I had a daughter

  • night train
    the brief lives of others
    come and gone

    dark room
    trapped in the camera
    the five lost haiku

    back home
    the reassuring rumble
    of the kettle


  • evening breeze
    winding through war graves
    the scent of mown grass

    The Heron's Nest, Volume XIX, Number 2, June 2017

  • cheeky monkey fist not on your nelly


    leap second the further sound of water

  • Christmas pudding
    flambéed to oblivion
    the archangel’s share


    soft hair
    for information loss
    a conditioner


  • Beep, beep, beep … oh, what now?! Is it time already? Surely she can’t be in labour now. It’s been just under two hours.

    Beep, beep, beep … the beeper continues its disturbing melody.
    It’s so peaceful and quiet under the linden tree and the sweet nostalgic aroma of the slightly shrunk blossoms evokes almost a Zen like state of mind. Not urgency. Definitely not that!
    Beep, beep, beep …!!!

    baby’s first cry
    a silence in between
    the angel wings' flutter

    Count to 10 in reverse order. Ten, nine, eight … Why just 10? I can start from 100. I’m not tired. I’m so full of excitement, I’m having my baby, I can climb mountains, Everest even … What comes after eight? Her hands are so warm. They smell of linden blossoms …


  • misty walk
    a magpie
    shade of blue

    Time Haiku #48

  • cicada songs
    last vestiges of summer
    on YouTube


    autumnal sunset
    fifty shades
    of sorrow


    where two seas meet
    the broken V
    of wild geese


    sheeting rain the outstretched snail


    rippling through ripple after ripple sun on the stream


    still childless playtime in the park



  • filling our silence
    the heavy scent
    of lilies

    wild voices, vol 2: an anthology of short poetry & art by women
    (Edited by Caroline Skanne) wildflower poetry press 2018

  • nightfall
    the snow


    summer dusk
    reading by lamplight
    this moth and I


    sugar cubes
    the scent of horse
    in my hand


    the steady creak
    of the old garden fence
    honeysuckle breeze


    sudden rain
    share the doorway

  • dUSt

    desert mathematician arms

    winter architect i buy his silence

    after the frog
    i dissect
    an earthquake