Open 11am to 8pm
Royal Festival Hall (Level 5), Southbank Centre, LondonOpen Tuesday - Sunday from 11am to 8pm
British Haiku Society. Artwork by Helen Robinson
I am eating the newspaper for breakfast
and sipping the colour supplements, thoughtfully;
it is one of those days.
The postman has delivered a litter of puppies,
the milkman forgotten human kindness.
The radio waves are crashing ashore
with news of bitter conflict in Switzerland.
The toast has buttered itself and slipped off
to seduce the marmalade, leaving only
crumbs of comfort on my plate;
Soon the telephone will be dead
and the Salvation Army will have come
to take me away. For ever.
What does it mean if every night for a week
you dream that you are Batgirl
flying around the roofs of malls with Batman and Robin
and you can’t decide which one you like best
It would have to be Batman, really
because he gets more respect
But then again, just how old is he under that mask
if the series is into reruns?
You flit between the two of them
admiring the legs,
wondering if Batman wears a corset
and asking yourself if you should be wary of a man who still lives in a cave
And what about sex?
When it was over, would he just leave you hanging