gone south
September 18, 2014 § 17 Comments
swallows have gone –
sadness
creeps
into the silence
~
Origami courtesy Sipho Mobona
Changing Skin: modern haiku and other stories
Haiku, stories and unfinished business…
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Changing Skin: modern haiku and other stories 
This is lovely. A beautiful and haunting thought of sadness creeping into silence, as it so often does. Loved this..
Sent from my BlackBerry smartphone from Virgin Media
Thanks, John. I have no idea why, but I always get really happy when they arrive, then plunge into misery when I notice they’ve gone. Some kind of subliminal memory, I suppose. Take care 🙂
Another beautiful one. I missed my evening reading through your back catalogue as my Internet Service Provider decided not to provide a service so we had no internet; so much for ISP! You are, if I may say so, an oasis in the desert, and if I don’t often comment, it’s because I don’t want you to be bored with my saying how you haiku move me; but they do. Quite ruined my evening routine last night!
Thank you, Geoffrey. The odd comment from you is always very welcome! We had no internet service last night either – but I can’t say it wasn’t a pleasant experience…
Aye, well, as Mrs S always put it, odd comments are my forte – the odder the better 🙂
I daresay I speak for others here when I say that your haiku are always a pleasant part of the day.
Oh, how I relate to your feelings in this exquisite haiku! I’m sure it’s how relatives feel when we come to stay for a weekend but remain for over a month, then leave. Not!
Bee-YOO-tea-full, Rachael!
Ron
What a wicked sense of humour lurks, my friend! Made my morning, you did. 🙂
Quite beautiful…then it hits home, the pain and isolation of silence. This one stops you in your tracks. A mini masterpiece, Rachael.
Thank you, Chris. That’s some compliment ❤
It is a sad time to see the birds heading south for the winter. The robins are flocking together right now, and I figure they’ll be heading out soon enough. Luckily we do have some songbirds who stay throughout the winter.
That’s something I suppose. I really miss not being woken by birdsong. Robins flocking? I wonder if they’re the same robins we have here? I’ll check. Ours are solitary and territorial and bicker a lot! I wonder…
Beautiful and sad… sad & beautiful, here I feel exactly the same about swifts… I love their dance in the sky, I love when there are back in june, and sad when they leave… on my blog the header is a photo I took, the sky above my house, with one of them flying… thanks for this wonderful piece! ♥
That’s a special photograph – a lone swift. But they will be glad with the swallows and our hearts will fill with joy again! Winter is fine and necessary, I suppose. I see it as a time almost for hibernation, for looking inward, for being quiet and still and toasting our toes in front of the fire. All part of a wonderful cycle. And thank you ❤
I loved this one too…I saw the Osprey (probably the last time I will see her)…she was surveying the lake with that stern look she has…almost as if saying goodbye to her summer home. I love to see them return in the spring…but hate to see them go.
I’ve never seen an osprey… 😦
This, to me, is a lovely, melancholy swath of dove gray satin memory (sheesh–I am not sure I KNOW what that means, but it feels like that to me…I can see it). Also, dear Rachael, not sure you did this consciously, but I love how when one looks at this haunting poem, one sees in a diagonal “swallows,” “sadness,” “silence” with that centerpiece word I mentioned before, that kind of heartbeat word: “creeps.” Very painterly :). Thank you, xox
You see things I could never dream of! And I love that my burblings inspire such amazing thoughts, Chloe. Creeps, crawls, slithers, slides, even squirms. Suddenly the sadness is reptilian. How I love words, and that people like you inspire me to keep going. And THANK YOU xxxx