All aboard!

Last Train Home edited by J. Pearce, 2021.

There’s something romantic, mysterious and exciting about a rail journey. The cover of this new anthology, Last Train Home, captures the feeling so well. Canadian poet Jacqueline Pearce has selected around 600 short form poems including haiku, tanka and rengay, all addressing the theme of trains and train journeys.

Who among us didn’t enjoy playing with a toy train in our childhoods? Who hasn’t responded to the atmospheric film scenes of arrivals and departures on a fog-shrouded railway station? Who doesn’t long for the thrill and excitement of a new journey into the unknown?

I’m delighted to be included in this new book, with a fanciful tanka written in response to a literary favourite. I hope that you will come on a journey with the many wonderful contemporary haiku, tanka and rengay poets represented in this book.

The whistle is sounding . . . all aboard!

Haiku Stars

garden 2
Japanese Garden
Campbelltown Arts Centre
haiku workshop poem

This November it was a pleasure to share the essence of haiku with a group of local children experiencing the Japanese garden at b Campbelltown Arts Centre.

in the tea house
In the tea house

We thought about the sights, sounds, textures, smells and tastes of the garden experience after their ginko.

Using some ancient and modern examples, the children then wrote original poems. We wrote the poems inside origami stars to create a haiku “surprise”.

It was great to experience haiku in the ambience of the Japanese garden.

haiku workshop poem2

Thank you to West Words for the opportunity of sharing haiku!

Winter

milk

the thin whistle
of mum’s breakfast kettle
. . . bare toes on lino

school milk
striped paper straws
pleated into submission

half-yearly report
my frosty teacher
thaws

red cheeks
stung by sun and wind
our long walk home

shortest day
dad’s chaffed hands
light the gas fire

Julie Thorndyke

Equinox – a haiku string

sunset

Equinox

autumn breezes
through my open window
another day of hoping

a still evening—
teenagers out, we decide
on skinny-dipping

overnight,
these first golden stars
fallen to the gutter

our unmade bed
coiled with serpents
of regret

morning birdsong—
light creeps through
grey foliage

enamelled flowers
pinned to black velvet—
her long ago spring

lifting cloud
lit from beneath
by a tangerine sun

 Julie Thorndyke