Brian Kirk's Blog

Last Sunday, 17th April 2016, was International Haiku Poetry Day and my film poem Red Line Haiku was one of a number of poetry films featured as part of HaikuLife Haiku Film Festival by The Haiku Foundation in the US. My thanks to Jim Kacian, director  of the festival,  and to my fellow Hibernian Poet Maeve O’Sullivan who drew it to my attention.

There is a link to my film here.

A couple of people who enjoyed the film have asked to see the text of the haiku sequence, so here it is. I hope you enjoy it!

 

 

not even morning…

eyes close as the tram shudders

house lights coming on

 

 

 

buzz in my pocket

battery almost run down –

the mountains don’t care

 

 

 

cold wind at Kylemore

blear island in a smoke sea

oh please close the doors

 

 

 

eyes bent to phone light,

night and morning cross without

either one speaking

 

 

 

the east lighting up

burnt gold over drab buildings –

I stare at my phone

 

 

 

Red Cow Bluebell bends

into Blackhorse Goldenbridge –

so many colours

 

 

 

seagulls on canal – how do they not miss the sea?

 

 

 

James’ s hospital

end of the line for many:

not for me – not yet

 

 

 

children on the tram

next stop Probation Service –

on flows the river

 

 

 

one-sided blather

look away from your neighbour

dream lives not your own

 

 

 

push through numb bodies

the doors close on your ankle

unhurt embarrassed

 

 

 

ghosts in Smithfield square

haunting the benches, the law

calls them out by name

 

 

 

warm cans passed around

wonder what that life could be –

it could have been mine

 

 

 

crow taps my window

numbers march in a column –

start over again

 

 

 

phone’s shrill insistence

I will ignore it for now

no one can see me

 

 

 

dull meeting:

in a drab room opposite

a tired girl dresses

 

 

 

Angelus bell clangs

never sounded so foreign –

what country is this?

 

 

 

I hear my own voice

but I don’t recognize it –

who have I become?

 

 

 

voice over tannoy

murmurs vague words from the past –

I am my father

 

 

the dogs in the street

barking at leaves as they fall –

seen then forgotten

 

 

 

spoon out routine days

in hours that pass in lifetimes

forget your own name

 

 

 

warm rain on bare heads

the streets wet at evening

must get umbrella

 

 

 

soft lights of the pub

impossibly attractive –

swallow bitter draught

 

 

 

on my own again

eyes always drawn to the door –

what are you watching?

 

 

 

girl in a doorway

checks her lips in a hand glass –

curse fugitive love

 

 

 

old man with a bag

tests the bins for a bottle –

curse fugitive God

 

 

 

new moon blesses night – who blesses the night walker?

 

 

 

back on the Red Line

night muddies the windows

with an orange glare

 

 

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