When I lived in Cologne in Germany, my best friends were Ellen, after whom my daughter is named, and Ulli, her partner. Ulli was a real character, Germanic looking, with very long blond hair and piercing blue eyes, and he had a wicked sense of humour.
Ulli loved motor bikes, of which he had three, his favourites being BMW, Triumph and Norton, as well as a garage full of parts. He was always in trouble with Ellen for cleaning oily chains, exhaust pipes, brake discs and pads in their flat, when it was too cold to clean them in the garage, as well as spending hard-earned money on them. I would often be seen flying along in Ulli’s sidecar, their two dogs squashed in with me.
Ulli and Ellen visited me on their motorcycles when I moved from Germany to Ireland, and then in England, where I helped him buy motorbikes and parts because he spoke very little English. However, the year I moved to Norfolk, Ulli was diagnosed with leukaemia, and I was shocked and distraught when Ellen phoned me that Christmas to tell me that he had died.
Ulli’s brother, Horst, inherited his bikes and everything to do with them, which resulted in him writing and dedicate a book to Ulli about all kinds of bikes and bike racing in Cologne, of which I have a treasured copy.
terrifying speed
at which life passes us by
we pass just as fast
Kim M. Russell, 26th May 2025
It’s Haibun Monday at the dVerse Poets Pub with Frank, on the theme of Momento Mori. Frank has written about Memorial Day, which the United States celebrates today, and would like us to remember loved ones we have lost. He tells us about his personal experience with the unexpected death of his paternal grandmother when he was six years old, and not being allowed to attend either her funeral or her wake.
He has given examples of haibun in which haijin have memorialized people they or others have lost to inspire us to live the ancient Romans’ memento mori by remembering our beloved dead and writing a haibun in which we offer your remembrance of anyone that has died or with whom we have a connection.

Here as I was reading you story, I expected him crashing with his bike…. and then all along death had been riding beside him for such a long time. Such a poignant story and fabulous haiku.
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Thank you so much, Björn. He had a few close shaves on his bike, but was a very confident rider. He was very shy and hilarious too. I loved him dearly.
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Your haiku captures the full story beautifully.
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Thank you, Judy.
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That comment b6 Björn really caught it…very tense haībun Kim, with that twist…yep …..what to say…..we enjoy what we can, he did too.
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Thank you, Ain.
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Treasured memories written here, Kim. What a fun person your friend was, obviously! My goodness, but it does zip by quickly–as you’ve so poignantly penned.
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Thank you, Jennifer.
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What a wonderful and tragic story, Kim. Thank you for sharing it.
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Thank you for reading and commenting, Nolcha.
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Sounds like he packed much into his life and so sad it was cut short. How lovely his brother went on to write a wonderful book in memory of him. Wonderful haibun Kim
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Thank you, Dianne. He was a real character.
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A touching rememberance, with such a poignant haiku to accentuate it!
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Thank you kindly, Frank.
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I like how your haiku is a small pearl of wisdom following your personal essay. Very nicely done.
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Thanks so much, Aaron.
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As Björn says, we expected in this poem, but often in life, that it will end a particular way and are broad-sided by another outcome, this was a dear tribute to a dear friend, thank you for sharing it…
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Thank you for reading and commenting, Andrew.
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Very touching ♥
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Thank you, Tiffany.
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What a beautiful way to remember him and his passion! Great haibun, Kim!
Yvette M Calleiro 🙂
http://yvettemcalleiro.blogspot.com
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Thank you so much, Yvette!
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The joy of friendship you describe underscores all the more the wrench of loss. A moving remembrance.
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Thank you, Paul.
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Most welcome KIm
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