shoredays, yoredays: seven haiku on a beach


now, then, soon – shoredays,

wave-lapped hours, wind-spun and warm

like summer kisses


blown in midwinter

distillated on our lips

blissed out, oh! timeless


yoredays – flown, but here

with you forever, come spring

and the buds and birds –


skies drunk on light, blue

till blacked-out, then flopping blank

on a spinning globe


summerled like myth,

tripping out on dewy toes –

yoredays, yours, mine, theirs,


the only sure thing

left is love in all our lives,

strewn along the dunes


days of sun, shoredays –

all transilluminated,

hewn in memory



  1. Dan Radcliffe says:

    Is that the Isle of Wight in the distance in the bottom photo?

    • that’s correct, dan, those white cliffs are the north-north-western tip of the island, well spotted.

  2. This is lovely and strangely warming on a dark January night… I guess the optimism for sun and beach – in their physical form, rather than perhaps their metaphorical – is perfect for the time of year.

    I like how there are seven huts. One per haiku. It would be nice, in fact, to turn beach huts into an artistic installation by having the haiku painted on their walls.

    “Wave-lapped hours” is especially fine.

    • thank you for your kind remarks, sandie!

    • in fact, those huts are incredibly dear – budgetwise as well as beautywise – theyre worth 200K upwards so i’m not sure how easy it’d be to graffiti them with haiku…

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