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Poems by Diana Webb

Contents
A Spot on the Stream
Claude Monet- Monochrome (High Tide at Etretat 1868; The Magpie 1869)
haiku
Takeaway

A Spot on the Stream

To Millais, 1851, threatened for trespassing

Here; where vivid underwater weed forms huge spearheads pointing
downstream, as the earth-brown flow around them laps over stones, above
the place lit in brief spells through leaves, the place where a touch of white
willow sways on the current. On the far bank purple loosestrife loops below
twigs. A trunk lies close beside. On the near bank nettles.

You could have painted her here.

hands cupped
above the surface-
fleeting demoiselle

Diana Webb
(first published on Contemporary Haibun Online)

Claude Monet- Monochrome (High Tide at Etretat 1868; The Magpie 1869)

Water lilies wait under the weeping willows. Years before...

He labours through taste and sting of salt on November gales, the roar and
splash, to anchor an instant...

beyond whisked waves
peak of one dark rock-
man holds his hat down

He sets up his easel in the middle of a white winterscape, becomes part of
it. Icicles form on his beard as the moment freezes...

'one for sorrow'
perched on the gate-
shadows on snow

Diana Webb
(first published in Contemporary Haibun Online)

haiku

behind the beach hut
my everlasting world
of pebbles
 
  clear tang
of a newly sharpened pencil -
summer birdsong
your grey dressing gown
let fall across the chair,
its folds and crumples
 
  all along the hedgerow
sunset caught
in the 'old man's beard'
dust on his paws,
he slips from behind the shelves,
the library cat
 
  almost breaking
the heron's ring of stillness
we make a detour
reception marquee -
uninvited guests,
daddy-long-legs
 
  starry night
in the darkened garden
tips of snowdrops
Diana Webb
Published in 'Blithe Spirit', the quarterly journal of the British Haiku Society

Oxfam window -
old dolls
stare out through the rain
 
  sun breaking through mist -
a man shares a garden bench
with a pumpkin
Diana Webb
Published in the haiku magazine 'Presence'

Takeaway

Waiting for a chow mein-
across the road
the last horse chestnut leaves
flap bedraggled,
a few buds gleam...

Always it seems I'm waiting-
opposite
under the horse-chestnut,
a bollard in the bluebells...

'Chinese' coming soon-
leaves turning,
odd ones blown free
flutter down the breeze...

Chow Mein-
in the gutter
uncollected conkers

Diana Webb
(first published in Blithe Spirit)