An Autumn Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

 

Here’s this week’s heap of haikus: 

Autumn at the beach;
looks like a picture postcard.
Vibrant hues, cool temps.

There are time limits
to infallibility …
Ask Galileo.

Autumn arrives with
colorful foliage and
orchards to harvest.

In a small garden,
pansies wait patiently for
roses to be picked.

About nursing homes;
aren’t the residents too old,
not to have been weaned?

A cold and wet night.
To ease the chill in my bones,
a savory bisque!

My friend David’s respondku:

Soup sipped in the nude?
A dangerous business, that.
Risque, risky bisque!

My Response:

Naked soup sipping?
Nude chowder? Not allowed, sir!
Savor the flavor!

Nantucket sand dune
hides a young couple ‘in love’
from all … but one dog.

Like cows in meadows
obnoxious taxi drivers
should never be tipped.

A wind-swept plateau,
where the sky looms large, as in
a John Ford western.

He recalls fondly
how one rainy afternoon
they ‘shared’ an awning.

I met a rabbit
one morn, in a dew-y glen;
we stared warily.

Walking through meadows,
I gaze at distant fences,
and ask … what’s beyond?

Thoughts, planted wisely,
blossom in reluctant minds,
when the time is right.

An over-dose of
an antidote, will become
a poison itself.

Remember; Thousands
of things will go RIGHT for you,
ev’ry single day.

Graceful wisps of hair
frame the courtesan’s face as
she serves me green tea.

Those that “plink out” tunes
are called composers. The rest
are merely players.

What he heard was, “I
love your harp of healing!” She
said, You’re Hard of Hearing!

Hiking down hillsides,
ground uneven ‘neath my feet.
a new slant on Life.

She liked being first.
Second row at “Guys and Dolls?”
Adelaide’s Lament.

Coffee and crullers,
sitting on the dock, watching
the boats come and go.

In some future world,
symmetrical shadows would
still not reveal much.

Lazy sunlight drifts,
through the parted lace curtains,
of the drawing room.

A convent garden …
a praying mantis finds no
Jack-in-the-pulpit.

my mom always had,
gum hidden in her purse, to
shut me up in church.

Saturday mornings,
biking to the bakery.
The smell of fresh bread!

 

There are time limits
to infallibility …
Ask Galileo.

Autumn arrives with
colorful foliage and
orchards to harvest.

In a small garden,
pansies wait patiently for
roses to be picked.

About nursing homes;
aren’t the residents too old,
not to have been weaned?

A cold and wet night.
To ease the chill in my bones,
a savory bisque!

My friend David’s respondku:

Soup sipped in the nude?
A dangerous business, that.
Risque, risky bisque!

My Response:

Naked soup sipping?
Nude chowder? Not allowed, sir!
Savor the flavor!

Nantucket sand dune
hides a young couple ‘in love’
from all … but one dog.

Like cows in meadows
obnoxious taxi drivers
should never be tipped.

A wind-swept plateau,
where the sky looms large, as in
a John Ford western.

He recalls fondly
how one rainy afternoon
they ‘shared’ an awning.

I met a rabbit
one morn, in a dew-y glen;
we stared warily.

Walking through meadows,
I gaze at distant fences,
and ask … what’s beyond?

Thoughts, planted wisely,
blossom in reluctant minds,
when the time is right.

An over-dose of
an antidote, will become
a poison itself.

Remember; Thousands
of things will go RIGHT for you,
ev’ry single day.

Graceful wisps of hair
frame the courtesan’s face as
she serves me green tea.

Those that “plink out” tunes
are called composers. The rest
are merely players.

What he heard was, “I
love your harp of healing!” She
said, You’re Hard of Hearing!

Hiking down hillsides,
ground uneven ‘neath my feet.
a new slant on Life.

She liked being first.
Second row at “Guys and Dolls?”
Adelaide’s Lament.

Coffee and crullers,
sitting on the dock, watching
the boats come and go.

In some future world,
symmetrical shadows would
still not reveal much.

Lazy sunlight drifts,
through the parted lace curtains,
of the drawing room.

A convent garden …
a praying mantis finds no
Jack-in-the-pulpit.

my mom always had,
gum hidden in her purse, to
shut me up in church.

Saturday mornings,
biking to the bakery.
The smell of fresh bread!

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