You said you were into fashion, I said I liked birds and trees. You cross-stitched yourself on my passion And sketched me a reason To breathe. You tore up my face, grace and everything

Haiku Stalking Actually . . .

I stood, thinking of you - while tenderly stroking the bar of chocolate (butterscotch, Co-op and Fair Trade) that I'd bought for the Buddhists - for a full minute. Then I thought,

I said to my dharma sister; over the telephone, “Why don't you have an email account?” There was a deep silence – I felt her breathing – and, I suspected, bristling.

I woke up to a deafening silence. There was nothing from Sera, Arjus, Kabren, their voices were gone, my data bases, Interlink... It was like clawing...

(I had written this 4 years ago- at the end of it, I did get a good job. But now I am looking again, and I find the situation to be even worse!!)

Ethereal wings twist through air, The hum of innocent dragonflies Escaping the silvered blade that’s raised, He pins me, knee to my chest. Black hair falling around his cold, blue eyes.

I was woken up at about 6.30 in the morning by a hammering on my door. “Come in,” I shouted down to Alun, “put the kettle on, I’m just getting dressed.”