A Freshly Fleshy Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:

Spring arrives, it leaves;
the glorious sight of bare
branches ‘gainst the sky.

Easter haiku quartet:
Jesus loves Springtime
the world arises from the
cold, dead of winter.

Roll back the rock or
roll eggs on the White House lawn.
Our sins forgiven.

Keep looking for Good
and you will, no doubt, find it.
God’s challenge is more.

When it comes to bad,
we must not turn away, but
rather lend our hearts.

What’s so special here?
Optimistic insects or
Hopeful pot smokers?

 (Chalkboard outside a restaurant on Avenue A in the East Village this week.)


haiku quartet:

Grandeur of design
said; “All things are possible,
and mankind will rule.”

Now dreams of Grandeur
are forgot. Bleak visions of
failure haunt the world.

Abandoned hopes still
lie in junkyards just waiting
for another day.

Where’s our spirit? We’re
no less than what we were a
century ago.

(Photos taken 30 years ago a few blocks from where I used to live in Long Island City.)

Friends make you mourn and
strangers make you suffer. The
earth laughs in flowers.

Inspired by a drawing on my friend Jennifer’ Dye Visscher’s website.

(Check out her barn quilts!)

Don’t be writing ‘whilst’,
it’s archaic and obscure,
Whilst-le while you work.

Crystal chandeliers,
are NOT the best design choice
with six foot ceilings.

I can not tell you
how deep’s the ache in my soul …
but, somehow, you know.

Geese, dogs and seagulls,
seldom think beyond right now,
Man does nothing but.

A bowl of walnuts,
sits on a coffee table,
made of relatives

If this train runs right,
I will see my gal tonight.
My heart leads me home.

(Thanks and a tip of the hat to Woody Guthrie for this one.)

Emphatic rainbows,
Strew their colors ‘cross the sky.
Dazzled horizons.

Mind all aflutter,
She left her glasses at home
and her keys at work.  

tanka haiku:

That old maple tree,
was planted in our back yard,
when we were children.

Through the years, we raked its leaves,
Grandkids now climb its branches.

A tall glass of juice,
is no substitute for a
big mug of coffee.

Whispering your name,
in my darkest moments, gives
me some brief solace.

One green poker chip,
hidden in his vest pocket,
kept him in the game.

To friends, be loyal,
to enemies, forgiving …
Siblings? Persevere.

Turn adversity,
into something of value.
And then, teach the world.

Alas, we live in
a linear existence;
the Past IS prologue.

I dream of sane things,
Wake and deal with illusions.
Something is screwed up.

Flying by the seat
of one’s pants sounds like fun, but
when landing, heads up!

Fine fettles o’ fish,
fancily filleted, feed five.
flounders feast filling.

The worker began
rummaging through his tool-box,
looking for pliers.

Those blue serge suits aren’t
getting better. The truth is,
they’ve gotten worsted.

Personal items,
given little thought today, are
future mementos.

double haiku:

He wrestled demons,
which didn’t pay as well as
dating an angel …

But, it’s a living.
And the fact is, he preferred
headlocks to halos.

Paths to glory run
through fields of ignominy,
loathing and defeat.

Oh no, not again!
My right shoe’s on my left foot!
I’ll walk in circles!

(a short story of youth, told in nine haikus:)

His older sister
showed him how to dance with girls.
His next step … call one.

He thought he would wait
’til later, but his sister
handed him the phone …

Starting to panic.
he prayed that she was not home.
‘Hi Penelope!’ …

He paused, then stammered,
‘Are you going to the dance?’
(She was … with Tommy.)

Four phone calls later …
the nervousness was gone, now
he was desperate.

He decided to stop
calling cheerleaders and try
his friend from math class

She said, ‘I don’t dance,
but I would like to see you,
so I’d love to go.’

His gloom turned into
elation! He had a date!
And a girl liked him!

That night, his homework
did not get done, but lessons
were, most surely, learned.

The weathered shingles
on the cottage by the lake,
need to be repaired.

Cold and rainy nights,
comfort the lonely, who shed
their tears un-noticed.

Dreams will fade away,
past pleasures too, as the night’s
fog envelopes us.

Putting on greasepaint,
actors fret about their lines;
Makeup conceals them.

Grandpa’s gold timepiece,
has a little secret; he
won it shootin’ craps.

When the couch was moved,
some keepsakes from long ago
were re-discovered.

In a garden lost,
overgrown with grass and weeds,
peonies still bloom.

Simply looking back,
Well, Honestly, what’s the point,
If you can’t re-write?

When you call your love,
Do not buzz nor beckon them,
sweetly sing their name.

coffee and crullers,
sitting on the dock, watching
the ships come and go.

Lonely blue highways,
asphalts to infinity …
I’m travelin’ on.

Too many raindrops,
fell on the geraniums,
now they look depressed.

Nervously, he waits,
then hears his cue, and enters,
The ‘King!’ (sans trousers.)

When painting ‘still lifes’,
try not to put your elbow,
in the water cup.

Should, I go ahead?,
Nothing ventured, nothing gained,
Doing brings wisdom.

Dreary afternoons,
cooped up in her office, she
dreamt of escaping.

When daffodils bloom,
near the edge of your garden,
passers-by may pluck.

Ah, Cherry Blossoms!
Beautiful, delicate and
by tomorrow, gone.

Kitagawa Utamaro (Japanese, 1753?-1806) | Viewing Cherry Blossoms | 1790



Comedy heroes,
are few and far between, but …
Stan Freberg was one.

(RIP Stan Freberg 1926-2015)




This entry was posted in The Haikulodeon. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s