A Laborious Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

 

Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:

 

Labor Day double haiku:

Forty hour work weeks,
Safety and child labor laws …
a minimum wage.

Unions, walk outs, strikes,
picket lines, arbitration …
Which side are you on?

 

 

 

A suicidal
watermelon’s a sure sign
that Summer’s over.

 

(Actual un-retouched photo of W. 108th St. sidewalk – taken by me in Sept. of 2013)

 

(So, I said to myself, “It’s almost September, maybe you could write

a haiku with ‘falling leaves’ in it” … this is what came out first:)
Since falling leaves me
vulnerable, it is not,
my friend, an option.

 

then I got serious and wrote this …

 

Through an iron fence,
I watch Autumn leaves fall on
empty park benches.

 

Soothing melodies
ran through his head, thanks in part
to his new iPod.

 

There, on the sidewalk,
I spied a crumpled dollar
which looked a bit spent.

 

 

 

Coming down the steps,
she held onto the handrail
with a fierce-some grip.

 

 

 

 

On grey, rainy days,
she first sulked at the window,
then, wished for blue skies.

 

 

 

 

They sway with the breeze,
which is why her little dog,
barks at sunflowers.

 

 

 

 

It’s not the way I
don’t do things that matters, it’s
the way I forget.

 

 

 

double haiku:

 

It’s three fifteen, and
wakened from a sad dream, I
try to clear my head.

Thoughts of you linger
and entwine with my day’s chores.
You still haunt my heart.

 

 

 

 

Torches throw shadows
on dreary castle walls … The
mob wants Frankenstein!

 

 

 double haiku:

When I was young, I
looked in strangers’ faces to
find the familiar.

Now that I am old,
I look in strangers’ faces
to find the unique.



In Life, two choices;
remain bewildered, or seek
clarification.



The dark before dawn;
lonely hearts beat quicker in
anticipation.

 

 

The one thing we do
that’s as powerful as Love
is … that we Forgive.

 

 

To illuminate
is better than to merely shine.
Teach thinking, not thoughts.

(from St. Thomas Aquinas … more or less.)

 

You can malinger
or even procrastinate …
long as things gets done.

 

 

 

Ah, consistency …
It’s not just over-rated,
it’s the same old sh*t.

 

tanka haiku:

She wore pink spandex
on her summer vacation …
which caused a riot.

Cops came. She was arrested,
and did a stretch in prison.

double haiku:


Oh, sweet saxophone,
play for me a most gentle
lullaby for Bird.

I passed Bird’s house on
Avenue B today and
muttered, “Too soon gone.”

(Happy would-have-been 94rd birthday to Charlie Parker.)

 

A stone partition
never stops my neighbor’s dog
from barking at me.

 

 

Idyllic dreamscapes;
lush, green mountains still surround
the Hudson River

 

(Painting by John Frederick Kensett (American, 1816–1872) | Hudson River Scene )

 

Weary troubadour,
guitar slung across his back,
thumb out to hitch-hike.

A moonlit whisper
two lovers in silhouette
nightly affection.

They carved the bough to
make a prow, which even now
still floats somehow … Wow.

 

Moody clouds roiled through
the dark sky o’er the harbor …
tethered sailboats bobbed.


(Photograph courtesy Kristina Rebelo)

 

 

 

 

Homes embedded near
Maine’s coastal villages, where
Man and Nature merge.

 

George Bellows (1882–1925) | The Red Vine, Matinicus Island, Maine | 1916

 

 

Though Summer’s waning
Autumn’s not yet in the air.
Seasonal drifting.

 

 

 

 

Set wide the window
and let me drink in the day
for I’m feeling parched.

 

(from an Edith Wharton quote … more or less.)  

 

 

 

 

I don’t move stiffly …
The rest of the world’s too loose.
See? It’s all context.


It’s been said that in
the wasted pursuits of youth
live our old-age dreams.

 

 

Driving through small towns,
my windshield frames images
I cannot forget.

 

 

 

 

 

Formerly treasured
knick-knacks in the garbage can?
The whim of ‘the wife.’

 

 

Any given day,
swirling leaves will seem confused
by the winds of change.

 

 

 

* * *

 

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