the chilled sake
helps me sleep
left in a cardboard box –
an old pink shawl
and a baby boy
It is a while since I’ve written a haibun. Haibun is a combination of prose and haiku poetry.
“I’ve been having these dreams Charlie. All about me before I came to this place.”
“Dreams are not good for you. Can interfere with your medication. Reckon I need to have a word with Doctor Charters.”
“Wait a minute Charlie, hear me out. In this dream I was married, had a job – not sure what it was, that bit was all a bit vague, but I lived in a big house. I could see it as clear as I can see you. Number 43 it was, but I couldn’t quite make out the name of the street, I think it began with a ‘D’.”
“Very nice, now do you want a couple of biscuits with your tea? I’ve got some digestives, I know how you like a digestive.”
“Sod the digestives Charlie! I need to tell you about this dream.”
“I thought you already had?”
“Only some of it, but not the best bit. Charlie, in this dream I had a name. It was David. David Bentham. My wife’s name was Miriam and I had two children, Sam and Ian.”
“Now come along Number 343421 you know it’s not a good idea to talk like that. Nobody in this place has got names, well nobody that is except the doctors and us warders. Look what happened to Number 243412 when he started thinking he had a name and a past. Got really nasty that did. No amount of medication would quieten him. My mate Charlie, the warder on that wing, told me they had to put him down in the end. Now we don’t want that happening to you Number 343421, do we? Why don’t you just relax while I give you this little injection? It’ll make all those silly dreams go away.”
“But Charlie I’ve got a name. It’s…, it’s…”
“That’s better Number 343421, just let all those daft thoughts disappear. Now, would you like one or two digestives with your tea?”
a long time ago
they took my real name from me –
gave me a number
The order had been clear, ‘Leave nothing behind, absolutely nothing.’ Our job was simple, clean up planet Earth and make it ready for it’s new inhabitants. They are hoping to move in, a week on Tuesday.
the ferocious fire
swept away all in its path –
ready for new life
A line had been drawn down the middle of our street. Someone told me it was young Billy who did it, late last night, using some green paint he’d found in his dad’s old shed. It wasn’t a very straight line, far from it, but it would do. As the sun rose over the terraced houses on our estate we gathered, out of sight, armed with our bricks and bottles. We crouched there silently, each of us watching that green line. We knew, before long, one of them would try and cross it. When they did, we’d be ready.
this lust for revenge
is part of our heritage
etched into our souls
It is a while since I’d written a haibun. Haibun is a combination of prose and haiku poetry.