holidaying ~
the ball gets kicked forward
mindlessly
falling behind ~
the morning mist
hangs around
sunrise ~
all necks craned towards
the Son-of-a-gun
gentle breeze
casually gliding here and there
~Bob Murphy
four goals down
at the last break ~
I take my coffee black
a seabird
disappears in the water
we come up empty-handed
another defeat ~
the place in my knee
where it hurts
Rob Scott (aka Haiku Bob) is a peripatetic haiku poet who calls Victoria Park home. He writes haiku in between teaching whisky and drinking English, or something like that.
Every week, very good.
Onya
Thanks Steve,
Means a lot to get comments like this.
Haiku is as misunderstood as Adam Goodes.
But not nearly as important.
Cheers,
HB.