Free Lemonade Friday Afternoons at the Haiku-lodeon



Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:
A nuanced answer’s
often misunderstood … or
picked apart by friends.
Of a sanguine mind,
he always disagreed with 
the cynical blokes …
tanka haiku: “What a lovely toy,”
she thought. (That was long ago.)
It no longer shines.

Ignoring missing buttons,
she still combs its thinning hair.

 Have you ever seen
a sunrise that does not hold
a promise of re-birth?
tanka haiku:  Why do you suppose
we have physical limits …
To teach us patience.

(Also, to give us something
that we can complain about.)

Formerly treasured
knick-knacks in the garbage bin,
show his shifting taste.
 Temps in the 90’s,
the humidity as well …
Summer sucks sometimes.
 Vacant apartment
Dust has settled everywhere.
Her spirit lingers.
tanka haiku:  John Fluegel  played fife,
Tobias Giltner  fought in
the Revolution.
Here’s to ALL my ancestors
that fought for Independence.
Try imagining
that strangers you encounter,
are friends from past lives.
Respond-ku from a friend:  
What if these strangers
recognized as past-life friends,
still owe me money?
Respond-ku2 from me:
You’re a lucky man
to get a second chance with
those stinking deadbeats.
 What is on your mind,
the weight of the world … or the
lightness of being?
She no longer cares
if she impresses others,
she just likes to sing.
A slice of apple,
a wedge of sharp cheddar cheese,
and you by my side.
When the beagle barked,
squirrels would stop and look his way
and see he was tied up.
 While I sit and read;
a pitcher of lemonade
quickly disappears.
Coffee on the porch,
watching kids on bicycles
chased by barking dogs.
As the clouds disperse,
stars twinkle in the sky and
my heart leads me home.
Shady Summer’s dusk;
he whistled as he strolled down those
quiet streets near home.
The calla lilies
sported purple freckles, which
made me think of you.
 I sometimes wonder
what my dad would think of all this …
Forty years, things change.
 I am for you and
hope you are for me. So here; 
break some bread with me.
The epitome
of a most humble man; his
silence is profound.
Near shallow shoals,

sallow souls in hollow holes
scream at scheming scum.
 You’ve fought long enough,
my friend, put your sword down now
and rest, simply rest.
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