haiku

Your 2017 Haiku Horoscopes

Capricorn

Trousers start to sag
as your pockets bulge with coins.
A year of much change.

Aquarius

You join the circus.
Retrain as tightrope walker.
Good work-life balance.

Pisces

You leave the city
to become a sheep shearer.
New year, a new ewe.

Aries

On Twitter you find
your new haiku horoscope.
It tells you little.

Taurus

You hate your star sign.
Disgruntled, you convert to
Capricornism.

Gemini

Mars enters the sphere
of concupiscent Venus.
Not sure what that means.

Cancer

The year drifts past you
in TV shows and hot food.
Netflix and chilli.

Leo

You date all your cheques
with the year twenty sixteen
until November.

Virgo

You stare at your phone,
look up briefly in July,
then stare at your phone

Libra

At last you make it!
That flat pack IKEA desk
from their Croydon store.

Scorpio

You decide to stop
thinking about anagrams
and sort out your file.

Sagittarius

Year of good fortune.
Not once do you encounter
Jeremy Clarkson.

Haiku Horoscopes

ARIES
your attempts to breed
male sheep have unexpected
ramifications

TAURUS
your luck starts to change
when into your life comes a
dark handsome strangler

GEMINI
mercury enters
the charts at number six; you
get it on iTunes

CANCER
you realise that
all horoscopes are nonsense;
feel crabby all week

LEO
your hair turns curly
and you have a surprise hit
with When I Need You

VIRGO
the crowds gasp at your
Cliff Thorburn and Doug Mountjoy
impersonations

LIBRA
you don’t return all
of the letters you borrowed
from the library

SCORPIO
reading horoscopes
in the newspaper, you bump
into a lamppost

SAGITTARIUS
you break with your strict
Sagittarian diet
and eat a Virgo

CAPRICORN
you see Colin Firth
on a bus in Northampton
but don’t talk to him

AQUARIUS
you forget which star
sign you are because you’re not
that interested

PISCES
a nightclub visit
fails when there is no-one to
pick up the pisces

Twelve Haiku

Instructions

Please choose the haiku
which applies the most to you.
Choose two get one free.

I

Subbuteo man.
Legs broken. Re-glued twice.
A fragile sadness.

II

A leaf, desolate,
wind-blown, stuck to the back of
Bruce Forsyth’s toupée.

III

A note left hanging
in the cold night air, dispatched
from a flugelhorn.

IV

Unclaimed bag revolves
on a lonely carousel
A hopeless case.

V

Empty, vacant box
in someone else’s org chart.
Never to be filled.

VI

Imperfect haiku,
starts off quite well but ends one
syllable short.

VII

A tranquil puddle
into which splashes one of
Clarkson’s driving gloves.

VIII

A semi-colon
in a place where it really;
has no place to be.

IX

Reality show
contestant on a journey
back home to Skegness.

X

A smell which lingers,
vaguely reminiscent of
Adrian Chiles’ socks.

XI

The forlorn pathos
of an abandoned crossword
in a bin in Fife.

XII

A bag of Quavers,
offering cheesy comfort
but steeped in staleness.