Haiku Book

Hello All,

I am bringing back the blog from its dust covered resting place and will eventually buy a web title for it. As of last Thursday I’ve been putting together a book of haiku. The plan is to have 108 haiku/senryu mixed with 4 haibun and an introduction. I might also add some chapters on Japanese poetry and notes to the poems. The ever wonderful Kiersty Boon has agreed to write a foreword for me. Thank you so much Narnie! You will find the book on Amazon Kindle and Lulu’s ebooks (Apple Store and Nook) by the end of the month and maybe a paperback print version too by the end of December. I’ll be working on a special hard back edition too if it is feasible. More to come soon, Will Crowbourne

Love & Books

This is a tanka written last year and posted on an old blog under the name W.F. Tyrman.

Raise a mighty tome
As my ever lasting tomb,
Through sheaths i roam,
Searching for feelings unknown,
And hearts, unbroken by me.

A Tilt Of Your Hat

A Tilt Of Your Hat

A tilt of your hat,
And to you sir,
I’ll doff my cap
For, of poets admired,
There were but three,
And there always shall be.

Our scribbling pens joined
At a café’s orchid room,
On virtual pages,
Through mists and rages
We created new worlds,
Internal prisms of fluid inspiration.

Your words lived,
And breathed.
You, sir, lived,
If no more
And with sadness
We’ll come to our own terms,
But your work,
Shall always shine bright.

So tilt your hat sir,
Take a bow,
And tilt your hat.

By Wulfstan Crumble
Dedicated to Paul Squires.

Rough Cut: New Story 1st Paragraph

Jumbled cubes,
ice skid-slipping down glass walls.
Tumbled gems cracking under liquid velvet.
Irish cream gulp-slipping to jazz talk from its cork popped bottle.
A sip.
Free form words flow faster than the liquor’s seeping warmth.
Eloquent conversation flowed by darkness, cream walls and the jangling of water-logged ice.

Teaching Monday

Flying clouds, lost sun,
Breeze blowing tumbling papers,
Ten Harry Potters

May Ramble

A bumblebee sat on my ear today,

I was doing nothing in particular

Except reading a rejection, Hooray!

This time it was Puffin books,

Another “no thank you” leaving me in dismay

Does anyone else find it hard to write in this heat?

New Who

What does everyone think of the new Dr. Who?

To be honest, after the first three episodes I was not convinced. We seemed to be lerching into the overly dramatic build up with a lame finale that bedevilled the end of Tennant’s era. The Darleks returning was annoying but I could see the attraction of allying them to Churchill, however, it was a total disappointment. Then we were promised the return of River Song and The Weeping Angels, I was not filled with hope.

One bright spot though had been Amy Pond, simply beautiful and engaging.

Anyway, I digress… the River Song thing annoyed me because Matt Smith is palpably younger in  both age and in his eyes, his Doctor is younger, more vigorous and childish than previous incarnations. When she met Tennant’s Doctor he was supposed to be the youngest she’s ever seen him yet, here she is meeting him younger.

However, the episode blew me away. I shall not reveal too much but it was fantastic. The weeping angels make fantastically scary bad guys, unable to move when being seen but can move even during a blink. Got the bit about the statues and heads, bit predictable that,  but overall, by far the best episode and part 2 looks unmissable.

Sunday Swing

Ah listening to Ego Wrappin, Within Temptation and The Little Willies, good stuff to edit Part 7 of “Blank Jack” to.

Despite getting overly in the politics my life continues to be as before. A daily routine of job searching, rejections and working on this novel. Nothing has changed since October.

The novel is 433 pages, 161,000 words and doing nicely. Got to sort out some odd sentence structures first but i’ve never been so pleased (hope that doesnt sound conceited) before.

Though a job will be nice. Read about a poor girl who killed herself because no one would employ her. We’ve got hard times here but, to anyone else, please do not give up hope. Believe in yourselves, i do.

Will Crowbourne

Smolensk Fog

Yogate shinu

Keshiki wa miezu

Semi no koe.

 

No sign

In the cicada’s song

That it will soon be gone.

Once again fate has been unkind to Poland. The President, his wife, the deputy Foreign Minister, Chief of Staff, the deputy speaker, two historians and ninety others died when their areoplane crashed in Smolensk, Russia.

Few can fail to notice the timing. Out of the grey, almost hidden skies, the plane fell to Earth on the very day the capita of Poland went east to remember the twenty thousand officers masscred in Stalin’s decapitation order upon the collapse of Nazi Germany. No matter their politics, we’ll again mourn with the Poles.

Blank Jack – Prologue

Blank Jack – Prologue

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