A Slushy, Snowy Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon 3-08-2013

Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:
Snow defiantly
sits on a shaky tree limb.
Wind plots against it.
haiku: Serious people
should go out of their way to
validate whimsy.

(Posing with Spondyville’s globe-trotting mascot, Stiffy the Snowspondy;  On the left, the head of the Spondylitis society of Slovenia, and on the right, Dr. Matthew Brown, a well-known Spondylitis researcher in Australia.)
haiku: To the smallest ones
give large measures of respect;
troubles drift away.
The falling snow was
barely perceptible, yet
his knit scarf got soaked.
tanka haiku: Where have the words gone?
Too many are speechless or
worse, they’ve been muted.

I’m not talking politics,
I mean, deep down in our souls.

 Whether waging war
or fighting chronic disease,
Courage will rise up.
There’s just Black or White
in the world of absolutes …
There are no rainbows.
tanka haiku: There is a sad fear
that’s buried deep in our hearts;
that no love will last.

So we pretend Time’s not cruel
and hope memories won’t fade.

It’s too warm to wear
sweaters and corduroy pants.
Damn, global warming!
True-Life haiku quintet:
Dozens of people,
walked right past something wondrous
and did not notice.

A bird, with a large
square ‘bread crumb’ in its beak,
ignored us all, and

kept pecking at the
chip, then picking it up and,
dropping it to break it.

I watched as it kept
trying … Determination
was not rewarded.

And then, it flew off,
plastic square still in its beak,
Hungry and stubborn.

A wink to Winter,
a nod to the coming Spring.
I plan my garden.
Up hills and down dales,
I expand my horizons …
aided by sore feet.
Bowls of walnuts sit
on a coffee table made
of their ancestors.
Nantucket lightships
cast their beams out to the sea;
“Warning! Rocky Shoals!”
Stashed behind the soups
in her kitchen pantry was
the choc’late cake mix.
 Sometimes we forget;
before we ski down mountains,
we first must climb them.
 Her cat likes to play;
it hides under the bed, and
stalks her pink slippers.
Two ladies speaking
rapidly and in Spanish,
drown out my iPod.
double haiku:
Pricey velvet seats;
Orchestra, on the aisle …
It’s Broadway, baby!

The house lights dim, the
overture strikes up, and I
feel alive once more!

In spite of the cold,
a bird sits in a tree and
sings a song of Spring.
 My feet meet the road.
The road is cordial … at first.
Then things get bumpy.
A journey at dusk,
may be swallowed by darkness,
and done before dawn.
She seemed tightly wound …
like a new top, about to
be spun the first time.
In dense morning fog,
the field beyond seems painted
with watercolors.
A cold little bird,
hops on a slush-y sidewalk,
Corgis ignore it.
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