A Pre-Sprung Spring Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon – 3-22-2013

Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:
 
 
 
Triptych Access-a-Ride #1 – Brooklyn Bridge
 
The world passes by.
I look out my window and
imagine stories.
 
 
————————————————————–
 
 
 
Triptych Access-a-Ride #2 – Lower West Side Manhattan

I so look forward
to viewing the sunset from
the West Side Highway

 
 
 
————————————————————–
 
 
Winter’s final gasp
tries in vain to hold off Spring;
But blooms triumphant!
 
 
————————————————
 
 
If you struggle to
build ships in bottles, why not
get bigger bottles?
 
 
————————————————
 
 
 
Scampering puppies,
all excited and barking;
salve for our sadness.
 
 
 
————————————————
 
 
 
It can not be Spring.
The flowers aren’t blooming, and
my egg fell over.
 
 
———————————————–
 
 
 
Tucked in his wallet
was a photo from his youth
of his secret love.
 
 
My friend David’s response:
 
Should she reappear
there’s an unexpired condom
next to her photo.
 
 
My response:
 
He carries a torch,
but he never lets condoms
reach expiration.
 
 
————————————————
 

tanka haiku:

 

Our thoughts are blended,
into philosophical
smoothies. We’re zombies.

How do brand new thoughts arise
when old thoughts refuse to die?

 
 
——————————————————-
 
 

tanka haiku: I still stop and pause
at ev’ry intersection
to look left and right.

You ask, “why is this funny?”
Hint: Can’t turn head and half-blind.

 

——————————————————-

 
 
Can haikus be writ,
without, to wit, a single
snit? I guess they can.
 
 
 
———————————————————
 
 
 
Weather will happen,
the earth will keep turning, in
spite of our tantrums.
 
 
———————————————————–
 
 
 
Cars that have not moved
since last night, tell me it snowed.
Taxis say nothing.
 
 
————————————————————–
 
 
 
 
 We’re not defined by
what we have lost, but by what
we do with what’s left.
 
 
————————————————————–
 
 
 
What remains must not
be slighted by our great grief
o’er what’s been taken.
 
 
 
—————————————————————
 
 
Old TV-ku #1:

Route 66 to
The Streets of San Francisco;
My Mother, The Car.

Old TV-ku#2 (Dobie Gillis edition):
Maynard had two joys;
Dizzy and knockin’ down the
Endicott Building.
 
 
 
———————————————————————-
 
 
St. Paddy’s Day-ku:
 
 
In fields of shamrocks
lies my past, who looks at clouds
and dreams of my life.
 
 
 
————————————————————————–
 
 
Part of ev’ry plan
is collateral chaos …
What if … that is us?
 
 
My friend David’s response:
 
You mean that perhaps
we’re collateral chaos
in someone else’s plan?

Are you suggesting
that we’re the background talent
in another’s dream?
 
 
My response #1:
 
What if the “stars” of
this whole earthly spectacle
are the butterflys?
 
 
My response #2:
 
What if we are not
the focus of all life, but
merely random results?

The moon above brings the tides,
Honey Bee’s cross-pollinate.
 
 
David’s response:
 
What if the “stars” of
the butterflies’ dreams are us,
the human beings?
 
 
My response #1:
 
Though we may believe
we’re the center of all things.
Ask Copernicus.
 
 
My response # 2:
 
To be the stars of
a butterfly’s dream would mean
a downgrade in pay.
 
 
David’s response:
 
Funny idea:
Have Copernicus appear
to the brand-new Pope.
 
 
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