Blogging Break!

19 July, 2017

I’ll actually be back here at Pure Haiku in September when I’ll be opening the site to submissions on a new theme…!

Dragonscale Clippings

Just a quick post to let you all know that I’m taking a break from blogging until October.
We are now in our mega busy season in the new enterprise that I have started and I need to concentrate on that.
And, as August generally sees the lowest visits to my blog due to the holidays, I didn’t think you’d miss me too much!
I will be back in October both here and at my other blog Pure Haiku!
See you when I see you! Much love Freya xxx
Freya Pickard 2017
Have you seen the videos I’ve made about my writing! Check them out at YouTube

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Haibun Monday: Tramps Like us Were Born to Survive

16 June, 2017

I love this song too! love the haibun! Kanzen Sakura contributed a while ago to Pure Haiku…

kanzen sakura

It is Haibun Monday over at dVerse. I am hosting the prompt for this. I want us to write about music – singing along with the radio, driving and singing, working and singing…a fun prompt after all the heavy prompts. Come join us!

I Love This Song
I sit in the car in the parking lot of the airport. I had been sitting there for a couple of hours, remembering. You were on your way back to Japan. I was returning to a new apartment without any memories of you. We sold our house, split the money; divided the stuff. My heart felt like it was being pulled apart by rats, ravaged over, leaving it bloody and in pieces. Finally I turned the key in the ignition and headed back to town. I pulled up in front of the apartment. Now I was sitting in the car, on the street…

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Late Spring

10 June, 2017

Today’s re-blog is from Wabisabipoet – another contributor in the past! Enjoy!

wabi sabi ~~~ poems and images

Daily Haiga

March 28, 2017

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3 June, 2017

this week’s re-blog is from another contributor to Pure Haiku from a few years ago… enjoy!

Love poems

27 May, 2017

This week’s re-blog is from Shalini’s blog – her haiku appeared earlier this year on Pure Haiku…


When I hear your love poems

Waiting for glimpse of lover

Extolling the beauty of beloved

Citing style of beau…………..

I deduce that you are counting

Waves of love

From the safety of the shore

You probably are in love

With the idea of love

The beauty of your words is muted

Pain’s allure hasn’t coloured them yet…

My heart whispers this blessing

May you be naive for lifetime

The day you plunge into ocean of love

The illusion of love will break

Either you will drown in vortex of sorrow

Or you will become love yourself ……

It’s certain that you will not be able

To gather in shallow words

The depth of experience of love

No longer will you write love poems

Waiting for glimpse of lover

Extolling the beauty of beloved

Citing style of beau………

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Meditation on Time

19 May, 2017

this week’s re-blog is from Rebecca whose haiku appeared here back in January… I like these words!

Thinking of Now

I looked at my favourite plant in the living room tonight and suddenly saw it as a tree.  Colourful cubbies holding toys would be gone and the tree would have all the light I wish it could have now.  Nights of staying up late to greedily grab as many moments for myself as I could would be gone.

One day my babies will need me in different ways – ways that will feel to me like not being needed at all.

Time will once again be mine and I won’t know what to do with it.


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The Letter

12 May, 2017

I love this post from Merril D Smith… what do you think?

Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings

I open the letter, read the words again and again. But they don’t change. They recount the battle and your acts of bravery. They describe the sudden storm, a tempest that battered your ship against the rocks, as you were journeying home to me. I had warned you not to go. I told you of my dream, where the storm clouds gathered and flew like demons, covering the moon, and you appeared beside me, cold and still, dripping, smelling of the sea, smelling of decay. I felt the pain then, clean and sharp in my breast. You laughed at my fears, called me Cassandra. Perhaps I am, for you did not believe me. I look at the ring on my finger and think of this other love-pledge you have given me, feel him flutter-kick in my womb. A son. He’ll be born in the spring. I will tell him about…

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