A Rainy Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:
Hand me my cane … and
open the window, I think
your husband is home.
 When my love is near,
the world’s filled with happiness,
and it all makes sense.
 He said, “It’s complex
to read about sex, without
a visual aid(e).”
 Now all that remains
are images in my head …
and her purple scarf.
Double haiku:
Her heart cringed when she
found some old love letters, but
forgot who wrote them.

The letters revealed
the seeds of a broken heart;
harvester unknown.

haiku: Shadows thrown upon
a brick wall by passing cars,
flee into doorways.
He was so sleepy,
he spread the raspberry jam
on both toast and hand.
Double haiku:
Oreos and milk
are the double martinis
of the pre-school crowd.

Plate-fuls of cookies,
like magician’s assistants;
blink … and they’re all gone.

If you choose to use
a magnifying glass, know
that you will find flaws.
Jet vapor trails slice
through a Maxfield Parrish sky
of back-lit pink clouds.
The playground’s where he
lost a tooth. Not from fighting;
stale peanut butter.
 As you get older,
perspectives change; trivial
matters fall away.
My friend David’s response:


Eyesight, hearing, and
Hair are trivial matters???
I am just asking.
Not at all my friend.
(Then again, they HAVE begun
to fall away, right?)
Eighteen coffee cups
cluttering the countertop;
broken dishwasher.
 A pastel sunset,
occurs behind some buildings.
I wait for the bus.
Yom Kippur-ku:
The fast went slowly.
All he could think about were
those damned macaroons.
My friend David’s response:
You got your treats mixed.
Macaroons are Passover;
YK’s rugelach.
Just wait a minute…
Who passed over macaroons?
Leave the plate right there!
If it were not for
contractions in English,
Haikus would be harrrrrrd!
Contractions contrast
contradictions concisely;
contrary conflicts.
Finding peace-makers
is never as easy as
finding warriors.
Thoughts, planted wisely,
blossom in reluctant minds,
when the time is right.
Grieving trees embark
on their sad autumn journeys,
shedding leafy tears.
haiku: I don’t oversleep,
I just go to sleep too late,
and clocks don’t adjust.
tanka haiku:
Will. That is all. Will.
It answers all questions that
ask why we go on.

Will is the determined push
that leads Hope to Victory.

In a lazy field,
I gaze at a distant fence,
and ask … what’s beyond?
The next couple, my friend David started and I responded.
Experience traps
the mind into expecting
what might not occur.

Experience frees
the mind into expecting
what might yet occur.

When can one tell him
“I’m falling in love with you”
when he won’t feel trapped?
The answer’s simple.
(Most answers are, says Ockham …)
When he has been trapped.
Trap me with freedom,
Then throw me, with all your heart,
in the sea of love.
Respond-ku 3:
The seas will seize them
(Each flea will flee them.) Each heart
captured, enraptured.
Just so that you know;
Got my mojo workin’ … but,
at my age, it’s moot.
Above. graceful hawks
swoop through blue skies. Below, ripe
blackberries to pick.
Though we start even …
you still can’t say who won; we’ve
run towards diff’rent goals.
tanka haiku:
I support “Your cause”,
but don’t make me re-commit
ev’ry single day.

I have strength to see things through,
without Facebook reminders.






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