A Sweltering Friday Afternoon at the haiku-lodeon – 06-29-12

 

Here is this week’s heap of haikus:
 
 
 
 
There will be rainbows
that sweep across the sky when
the storms have ended.
 
 
———————————-
 
 
Those being drenched may
not think of how they will
be blessed by the storm.
 
 
———————————–
 
 
A tall vase full of
perky yellow daffodils
assuages his guilt.
 
 
———————————-
 
 
The scar on his arm
made his hula-girl tattoo
appear to wiggle.
 
 
———————————-
 
 
A sunny morning
pries open sleepy eyes and
urges, ‘Re-join Life!’
 
 
———————————-
 
 
Shifting winds. Light rain.
He unzipped his coat. She closed
her red umbrella.
 
 
————————————–
 
 
 On the kitchen door,
she placed a post-it, which read,
“Turn the oven off.”
 
 
—————————————-
 
 
 
Will we be known by
the things that divert us or
those that focus us?
 
 
——————————————
 
 
 Anguish and remorse
re-inforced by solitude,
will shed bitter tears.
 
 
——————————————-
 
 
 When you enjoy their
triumphs as much as your own,
you are amongst friends.
 
 
——————————————–
 
 
A wastebasket filled
with crumpled papers means that
he’s making progress.
 
 
 
——————————————–
 
 
 Feeling alone, she
thought she’d go shopping, but all
her clothes were hiding.
 
 
———————————————
 
 
In musty attics,
boxes of old photographs
remember our ghosts.
 
 
———————————————
 
 
Telling your fortune
could lead or mis-lead you … and
ruin the surprise.
 
 
——————————————-
 
 
As you get older
perspectives change; trivial
matters fall away.
 
————————————–
 
 
A slug of whiskey,
shot of rye, hit me again,
here’s mud in your eye!
 
 
————————————
 
rhyming-haiku:
 
But, what if our lives
and all that derives, is by
chance, mere happenstance?
 
 
—————————————–
 
 
The intensity
of her stare made him wary.
She’s just near-sighted.
 
 
—————————————–
 
 
 A quiet morning.
She sits in her garden and
sips her iced green tea.
 
 
——————————————
 
 
In his fevered brain,
his thoughts had room to run, and
visions to pursue.
 
——————————————–
 
 
Colored beach balls float
on incoming waves. Children
squeal and splash about.
 
 
 
————————————-
 
 
tanka haiku: His heart went out to
the heartless, his soul to the
soul-less … and so on.
 
(fear, feck and daunt went to the
fearless, feckless and dauntless.)
 
————————————————
 
 
 
Who have you steadied?
Whose heart have you opened? Whose
dreams have you unleashed?
 
 
—————————————————
 
 
 
We’d be out of luck
if amoebas got stuck in
primordial muck.
 
 
————————————–
 
 
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