Wine and Haiku in McLaren Vale

McLaren Vale Vines

I cycled down to McLaren Vale a few weeks ago. Longest cycle I’ve done in a few years, and not helped by a fierce head wind all the way down.  I stayed overnight with my friend Krishan Persaud and his lovely family, in Port Willunga, and cycled back next morning.

The reason (as if a reason is needed to cycle 3 hours each way): a workshop and slam at a winery on the Saturday afternoon and evening, attended by a small but high quality group.  Sandra Thibodeaux, the official Poet in Residence of Australian Poetry for 2011, gave a really good haiku workshop, sitting outside the winery, and then going for a walk in the area to find inspiration.

Here are a few of the pieces I wrote on the day. Not strictly haiku, but then I’m not a strictly haiku sort of bloke.

So much depends

McLaren Vale Haiku

By the playground

a black girl and boy walk hand in hand

but only on a road sign

So much depends

on a blue bucket

at the end of each row of vines

Posts stake straight lines of wire

over a swelling hill

holding the land down

Great grey bearded thistles

stare down on common weeds

seen their type before

In the rank and file of weedy growth

three tall orchids purple white

stake a claim for artistry

Only on a warning sign

5 thoughts on “Wine and Haiku in McLaren Vale

    • Thanks Marianne. Yes, the effort made to do something different is rarely wasted effort. I was a bit reluctant to follow Sandra’s lead of just going for a walk with a notepad (maybe because I’d just cycled 3 hours into the wind and just wanted to sit down with a cold beer), but it was well worthwhile.

  1. greAT STUFF; I’m not a strict haiku man either but I avoid the issue by calling mine mini-poems or miniatures; the first one’s great but they all have merit; glad I visited

  2. These are great Mike. My favourite was the “posts stake straight lines” one. Here’s a couple I wrote on the same walk (but didn’t read out) also not strictly haiku:

    ahead on the path
    just one ant – even though
    there’s never just one ant

    across the creek
    through the trees
    someone else, following the fence

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