Ian Stewart Black

Modern master of classical poetry

Category: Haiku

A Death Awake

The end of all things.
When the water fills my lungs,
Will I be alone?

Will memory conspire to set my soul
Adrift on vestiges of bygone days,
Expel the mortal horror from my gaze
And drown me in the joys of old.
Will fantasy compel me from the waves
With glimpses of a new, untainted life –
To walk unhindered on the sea of strife,
My shadow sinking to his grave.
Or am I bound to reap as I have sown,
Confined in cold and breathless depths to wait;
With neither sight nor sound, a death awake –
Descending into dusk alone.

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Blood Upon Your Knife

Like a honey bee – 
The sting that irritates me 
Is fatal to you. 
 
You say the moon is static, still it spins, 
You proffer tales of war in times of peace – 
You label me the phantom of the feast 
When all your demons dwell within. 
And what have I to fear of slander, I 
Whose fortunes rest upon my will alone – 
Do you believe my pride so fragile, prone 
To shattering? You claw at stone. 
Disparage me, deride my works, and curse 
The day my light beset your dreary life – 
But know you this of blood upon your knife: 
That you, not I, shall suffer worst. 

 

Unobserved

Beauty finds a way;
Flowers bloom in the desert,
Perfectly alone.

The stars burn brightly
In the eyes of mortal men,
And in their absence.

A songbird echoes
In the chasm of my heart,
Though she sings no more.

The Bark Of Scots Pine

The bark of scots pine,
Or scales of fabled dragons
Crumbling to the touch.

Eden Crumbles Into Dust

A slave to my heart –
Thus I refuse you nothing
As you covet all;

Inexpressible
Longing blights my waking world,
While you soundly sleep;

And when you wish it,
Eden crumbles into dust…
I am yours to break.

There Is Only Now

Drowning in the past –
Whenever I see you smile,
There is only now.

As The Moon By Drifting Cloud

Emptiness obscured,
As the moon by drifting cloud –
Pure between the lines.

By The Ancient Reservoir

A shadow lingers
By the ancient reservoir,
Spilling into life.

A Breath Of Fresh Air

Waiting with the trees
In silent contemplation –
A breath of fresh air.

Silences Between The Notes

In melancholy
Silences between the notes,
I feel I’ve lost you.