The latest in my series of articles entitled "A Rural Calendar" which month by month explores the significance of the numerous customs and traditions practised by the inhabitants of the British Isles in the past. This week the Month of October

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Café conflict, Halloween Haikus

From Dracula’s steps

I am on the 4th bench on the right

I am talking to you, to the love

And to the new face

And to my own death

A bat out of hell flew over

The 100 steps.

A fairy tale, but fairy tales

Are grim

Coldness begins to bite by

Witches Delight

The moon is desserted

White horse gallops into infinit...

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Magpie flaps to the tune of Nature’s injustice

The poet strives for another success another year

Sunday wakens, bedraggled and woebegone

Coronation Street anthem drawls its falsehoods

Upbeat parental ending yields to great grimness

Wild West Yorkshire runs with bullet blood

Words find new hope in an army of perplexing forms

Goddess pours like erotic iron on the breathless...

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It was a cold and crisp evening, 

9:30pm and the full moon shone down

brightly on my path, 

Guiding me, 

As my feet crunched through

fallen scattered leaves. 

A sharp chill filled the air

And the smell of wood burning brought me 

back to the good aul days. 

If I had just awoken from a coma I 

would have known for certain that it 

was Autumn. 

Amber lea...

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At least 80

If I see tomorrow

I shall see the sunrise

The settlements were fragile,

Yet at the same time, strong

A descent into madness –

Resurfacing at Thursday Club

I’m always happy to stop for a hitchhiker

Over the years I’ve had

Elvis Presley and Lord Lucan as passengers

But everyone thinks I’m lying

Slender Man, Enderman, carrying things,

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People die for what they say - a sacrifice

I would say.

Promises unfulfilled in darkrooms

my pen massages,

carefully and lovingly

the waiting page.

She is everywoman: sacrifice, laughter, death.

U kip I kip we all kip

running saved her life

she is all giving

the painting of the dog, howling

she is all-giving, all-taking, all-lov...

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Winterfylleth (October)

We die! We die!

scream the old men

of the trees,

as their grip slips

from skeletal fingers

holding them aloft.

They fall to earth

in a blaze of golden glory,

coming to rest

at the feet of

great oaks, sycamores,

birch and elms.

Rustling in their cardigans

of orange and amber

like dry skin

in...

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