A Picturesque Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon



Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:

Sunday afternoon,
strolling o’er the Brooklyn bridge,
breathing in the sky.



Ted Cruz-ku:

Reading children’s books?
It helps if you understand
the point of the tale.


( All of the following photos were taken by my friend and fellow Spondy, Tom Contrino )


Though Time marches on,
punk Suffragettes listen to,
Ragtime Nine Inch Nails.



Hear what I’m saying,
If she throws food on this dress,
Helen Keller dies!




Ironic beauty,
Amelia Earheart ponders,
Mourning her own life



Don’t just stand there, James,
Rev up the Stanley Steamer
And let’s hit the road!



Who would have guessed that,
Her golden locks were made of,
14 carat gold …


Daily or Monthly
Parking is available …
Just don’t do it here.



Wet and glossy lips,
Slightly apart, teeth showing,
Vapid gaze … Perfect.



As you climb the stairs,
taking one step at a time,
the sky grows nearer.



On some distant shore,
A time long ago, we were,
Our ancestor’s dream.



Behind the twelfth door,
Lay wonders beyond your ken,
All need do is knock.



Now, its chance is gone,
Wind blows through paneless windows,
The House didn’t win.

Hope’s a distant dream.
Splendors of our youth squandered,
Never bet on Red.



His battered trombone,
Fills the night air with music,
Tuxedo Junction.



His sardonic grin,
Mocks you while you’re having fun,
‘Laugh now, while you can.’


‘Ouality Fashions’ …
Attention to detail’s why
Men swear at Menswear.



He buried his fear
in the pleats of mother’s skirt.
( … and wiped his nose too.)



Fear is a fabric
that folds under stress, and when
in hot water, shrinks …


tanka haiku: When you first awake,
check your bedroom for feathers,
lost from angel’s wings.

They may, of course, appear in
the form of small children’s toys.


Most swallow whole their
political pablums, but
Texans eschew them.




tanka haiku:

Blessed in many ways,

some tend to focus mainly

on their suffering.

That is not the way to live;

Focus on what drives your heart.


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