they
ask
why
haiku
I say
why
not
there
has
always
been
spring
Photograph anna lenina
© cyril ioutsen, 2021
© anna lenina, photos, 2021
ISBN 978-5-0053-2054-4 (т. 2)
ISBN 978-5-0053-2049-0
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
after the concert
a symphony
of ringtones
after the music
silence is still
catching up
always cheerful
bank manager
another loan
another death
a dried flower
on a grave
another year
they call it
new
art & craft
the line
in a poem
gets fixed
ashes
to the wind
to be
everywhere
at the end
at peace
at last
at the start
sorrow
at the end
regret
floating world
at a station
a lone train
– yet full
autumn
things
that come
to mind
back from
the burnt
the ashes
between
then and now
always
between trains
neither has
arrived yet
birthday
present
in email
blackout
only
sounds
bookstore
one book
warm to
the touch
border
nothing
but the sign
burning history
newspapers
in a fireplace
bus drives on
another afternoon
left in the past
but a gap
between
dreams
yet huge
calendar
thinning
as days
add up
a calendar
all the days
that might
never come
candlelight
and flowers
both smell
over-sweet
cat in the mirror
calm knowing
it is still there
childhood
fragments
collectibles
on eBay
choices
nowhere
to go but
somewhere
city life
early bus
late passengers
the clock ticking
the sunrise away
what if it stopped
cold fireplace
in the ashes
idea for a poem
computer crash
without a sound
on its part
connecting cities
the road cuts
the forest in half
counting
raindrops
so many
ways to
be wrong
a crack
in the wall
closed by
cobweb
crossroads
yet another way
to somewhere else
crumpled
pillow
remains
of a dream
curious
made-up
stories
mostly set
in the past
dark
and darker
with lights on
day and dream
in-between
something else
dead
fresh
flowers
deadline done
breaking dawn
breaking down
different
in twilight
same poem
different books
not so different
on a bookshelf
discarded
gift-wraps
no longer
festive
a distant
memory
up close
an old
photograph
dog days
all the same
for the dogs
dried flower
in a book
untold story
a duet
inside
the piano
outside
the rain
each stone
with a name
graveyard
the edge
of the map
the road
goes on
endless rooftops
so many yet
only one home
eulogy
heartfelt
words
that have
to be said
eyes
closed
things
seem
closer
falling dusk
fading clock
keeps ticking
nonetheless
familiar
scent
its absence
clearer
each time
family
funeral
reunion
family album
blank pages
in the middle
fed by
poems
the fire
finally
enough
moonlight
to make
a haiku
first up
then old
growing
flying
first class
outside
same view
freight train
losing the count
of the carriages
full
of ideas
trash bin
game of chess
side by side
the victorious
the vanquished
Grandpa’s
photographs
strangers
everyone
graveyard
in a book
an old album
growing older
the days seem
shorter
guiding light
a cigarette tip
in the dark
haiku
full-time
lockdown
haiku manual
300+ pages
about 3 lines
hard to tell
them apart
this world
reflection
in a mirror
hard words
soft paper
makes them
no less hard
heavy mist
blurred edges
blurred words
hospital
outside
the life
in a crowd
lingering
echoes
of glances