distances stretch in outer space,

galaxies drift beyond detection,

ocean tides swell and join the shore,

the Now once known slips away.

Watchers mourn and some agree 

all that is here transforms history.


©2017 Ontheland



  white moth flutters            white moth flutters
    a fleeting visitor              ephemeral 
      to this meadow                   as am I

                 white moths flit
                   in a splash of sunlight---
                     who else has passed this way?

Inspired by a moment of perception and thought, I wrote the first haiku.  Then I wrote two more looking for other words to bring readers closer to where I was.  I was thinking of Chèvrefeuille’s invitation to write and then consider possible meanings a reader might take away. This process might have resulted in my choosing one favourite wording, but in this case I liked something about each haiku.  This is my second response to Carpe Diem Writing and Enjoying Haiku #4.  (Best way to read this post on a phone is to turn the phone sideways.)


©2017 Ontheland


We were moving forward 

on an upward path 

or so we thought

until time’s accordion opened,

suddenly as clouds part

to show the blazing sun.

Music of then became now and

forgotten strains swelled.

Not long ago 

in grandmothers’ time 

women raged

for their right

to vote.

Now their cries pierce through

billowing dust as

lost stories dance

from unlocked folds and

tales of exclusion

thought long banished,

(yet only a century old),

rumble from pursed lips.

Just so, ballads of millennia

tumble from a land 


one hundred (and fifty) years.

Linear myths shatter

while expanding worlds swirl 

time reveals its nature.


©2017 Ontheland 


Public Domain from Pixabay
Public Domain from Pixabay

Clock hand shifts,

digits blink,

grains sift through


sundial time

shadows fall,



lunar sphere

waxes wanes,

seasons pass

kigo notes,

sun journeys

over sky,

fresh blossoms

fade to dust,


hum in chimes,

hairs turn grey,

thin and fall,

candles burn,

marking time……

Sitting here all evening—will I save time?

‘I have many minutes but not so many years left’

(elderly man in grocery lineup).

When I rush frantically, how much time have I lost?

 ©2016 Ontheland

In response to dVerse Poets Pub: ‘It’s all in the timing’—ruminations from Tuesday evening.