A Flirty Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:
(More from the series, “At Rest” …)

The trans-gender dad
had gained a few pounds … his mean
kids called him, “Fat her”…

(Photo courtesy of Tom Contrino)

Her grave was marked with
a single flower; she had
lost her bloom too soon.

A past imperfect
A rose alone a symbol for
a soul arisen.

(Photo courtesy of Tom Contrino)

It says, “Hannah In” …
Which was reassuring to
the Zombie Hunters.

(Photo courtesy of Tom Contrino)

Why the Flower Show
was raided by the police
for Obscenity …

(Photo courtesy Kristina Rebelo)


The earth brown, sea blue,
and sky a billowing grey …
Horizontal stripes.

(Photo courtesy Kristina Rebelo)

The surfing contest
was judged this year by women
all named Harriet.

(Photo courtesy Kristina Rebelo)


Californians
show 8-legged ocean spiders
that look like lobsters.

(Photo courtesy Kristina Rebelo)


double haiku:


In the barber’s chairs,
boys squirm and fidget … meanwhile
dad’s reading Esquire.

Sweeping up the hair,
old men argue politics …
kids want lollipops.

I don’t remember
any of my grandparents;  I
had to spoil myself.

Slowly I arose
and craned to see the peaches
‘neath the bamboo tree.



 Too many wind chimes,
not enough jello shots; the
story of her life.

Her deepest regret,
was that she’d let him go … and
now he won’t come back.

 

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!


Swirling embers rise,
riding a smoky breeze, then
die, and fall to earth

An unexpected
infatuation can help
mend a broken heart.

Will you walk with me
to the crest of the hill, where
new horizons wait?




Windows to our souls?
Eyes may behold the world, but
Minds create vision.

In the apple tree
sits a happy little boy
dangling his feet.



She seemed unaware,
that her presence caused a scene;
men in an uproar.

Though sealed with a kiss,
her love letter was opened
with some bitter tears.


A drizz’ly morning’s
walk through a nearby woods, cleared
his mind of its gloom.

When busy swimming,
you don’t think about drowning.
So it is with Life.


Chasing a sunset,
he hopes for one last glimpse as
the day fades away …

triple haiku:

Consistency makes
unimaginative lives
seem less vacuous.

Consistent is not
a value, it’s an action.
(Erratic is too.)

Be bold when needed,
steady when necessary.
Love the ups and downs.


Immortal souls that
live in mortal bodies … That’s
one of God’s jokes, right?


The blaze of Autumn
has begun to wither and
gnarly winter bloom.


hanging limply from
an overhead pipe; a sad,
deflated balloon.

Please prioritize;
carts go before horses and
socks on before shoes.


Habit treads water,
take a risk goes swimmingly,
indecision drowns.


As a precaution,
I wrapped my arms around her,
then shared the sad news.

 

A quintet of haikus:

Under a pale sky,
a man in a hat, sits and
reads his newspaper.

As the daylight ebbs,
the man folds the newspaper,
gets up, and goes home.

In the dark of night,
he lies in bed and ponders
all that he has learned …

and when he awakes,
he gets up, finds his hat and
grabs his newspaper.

The mind’s the engine,
that drives our train of thought. We
must keep feeding it.


He hikes his socks up,
she pulls his pants down… In Life,
things will even out.


Willows in the wind,
gently swaying back and forth,
like sleepy dancers.



A sliver of moon,
slicing through the clouds, restless
shadows roam the fields.


Autumn in New York,
leaves crackle underfoot as
I stroll through the park.


Moon behind the clouds,
fields aglow in bluish light,
while foxes prowl.

All things pass away
And all relationships change
We are in motion.


Cunning conundrums,
thoroughly mixed metaphors …
twisted conclusions.


When it’s dinnertime
in the cannibal village,
stupid shows up first.


“I ‘felt’ it was true” …
has been the rationale for
most of our mistakes.

Soft hands on rough stone,
grasping for crevices, will
soon form calluses.


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


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

Subtle shades of blue,
but when in a purple haze,
outcome indigo.

The role of youth is
to snatch the hands of time from
their elders … and run!


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

****
Sucker-punched by thugs,
smooched by dames, he fires his gat …
(He dreams in film noir.)

*****

This weekend, BlowUpRadio.com  once again brings together some of

the best local indie musicians for the 8th annual Banding Together: A

Benefit Webathon For The Spondylitis Association of America

October 17-20.  Check it out!

http://blowupradio.tripod.com/main.html

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