Haiku challenge: Cursed beauty

Ronovan’s haiku challenge is to use the words Beautiful and Cursed. I knew what I wanted to write, and realise that I haven’t used either word. Just the sense.

Photo ©John Darch



Rose wilts in a vase—

hedge flowers blow, wild white froth,

too common to pick.

First Sunday of summer

Sunday morning amble along the riverbank
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With youngest daughter
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and Finbar
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The old boatyards are gone, the wine warehouses and the wharves, the railway and the tramway. The buildings went about twenty years ago and since then, nature has taken over. Wild flowers grow among the sleepers of the old railway.
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and between the cobbles of a road that once served the warehouses of the port long since demolished and removed.
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No traffic runs here
On this hidden road,
Visited only by the sun.
Grass grows where once carts passed
Framing each cobblestone in green
And wildflowers grow
Where freight trucks rattled.
Lizards laze
Humming bees and crickets
The loudest sound.
Few feet tread these stones now
Their memories lie quiet
Enshrined in coarse grass
And the delicate faces
Of yellow flowers.

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Part of an old wharf still exists, covered in saplings and buttercups
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a zone of wilderness that runs all the way to the new bridge.

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This magnificent flour mill still operates, on a site it has occupied since the XIIth century. It stands alone now, in the middle of a deserted former industrial zone.

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The other spectacular site on this right bank of the Garonne is the old army barracks, the caserne Niel, which will have its own blog post.


©Nino Barbieri
©Nino Barbieri

Quiet street slumbers
Ignored by the traffic
Visited only by the sun.
Each cobblestone framed in green,
Grass grows where once carts passed.
Wildflowers line the undulating kerb
Of brick diamonds
That falls and rises,
A chain of gentle urban hills.
Each smooth stone a story
Each crack between
A crevasse filled with green roots
And the memories of the city’s heart.