A Fairly Frothy Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:


The sign on the beach
said “Clothing Optional” … So,
he took off his scarf.


tanka haiku:  

You can March forth on
March fourth and even ask, “May
One?” on May 1, but …
You can’t ever drink a Fifth
of July on a Sunday.


Delicate essence
is what Greeks do with shampoo;
Lather, rinse, repeat.

[

News reports where we’re
watching the street crowd react;
Journalism? No!

0


Mental disorders
are all in your head, hair-sprays
however, on it.



 Nut-so or Schizo,
it strains at the wits so,
I use Ju-jitso.



Reminder-ku #1:

As Alex Trebek
would caution you, replies should
be in haiku form.



moving out, he put
his desk on craigslist with that
second-hand futon.


double haiku:

Riding the porch swing,
we kiss while listening for
your father’s footsteps.

The moonlight creates
shadows which tease my desire
your allure is pure.



Fitful nights will pass.
Sleep will overtake sadness.
A new day will dawn.



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

The filthy windshield
gave a sepia toned view
of my ride to work.


When you fall in love,
it will be voracious; Hearts
never have enough.


In the afterglow
we must reflect and embrace
the change the flames wrought.

Reminder-ku #2:

The much less optioned
‘mitigated disaster’
will still ruin things.


My old neighborhood
has now become gentrified.
I left just in time.



Swirling rain pelts me.
I dash for shelter under
a leafy oak tree.

What’s clearly defined,
leave alone. What’s blurry at
the edges, sharpen.


=

tanka haiku:

Standing on the beach,
looking at the ocean, I
ponder Life’s journey.

   What makes me laugh, is to think
that seagulls do the same thing.

(Photo courtesy of Kristina Rebelo)


A starry night, wind
rustles the dandelions.
Cautious lovers kiss.


 


When I feel alone,
I conjour thoughts of you to
keep me company.



The more I focus
on subtle details, the more
I’m drawn into Life.



He was so immersed
in his work, that he forgot
to make the coffee.



My mind is slipping,
my thoughts can’t seem to grasp hold
of life without you.


Blue beach umbrellas
flutter in the breeze, casting
shadows on the sand.

 

(Photo courtesy of Kristina Rebelo)



When you do things right,
you don’t have to do what’s left.
What’s left is alright.



As ev’ning draws nigh,
chickens roost and dogs bark at
approaching shadows.


I’m down on my knees.
Tell me what I want to hear …
How do I get up?



Don’t feel discouraged
when your back’s against the wall …
you’ve found some support.


As we left the church,
Birds began to sing. Angels
whispered, ‘Life goes on.’



The young schoolgirl’s crush
waited ‘neath the boardwalk with
a cold grape soda.



Thoughts run through my head,
in-congruent images
chasing after them.


His tortured soul found
small measures of contentment
just beyond its reach.



Ev’ry Flea Market
has some folks who’ll wrestle you
for Fiestaware.

Marble-sized hailstones
bounced off air conditioners
in the East Village.

His heart on his sleeve,
led many folks to assume
he always wore shirts.

A loon on a lake?
All well and good, but I still
like my lunacy.


Stashed behind the soups
in her kitchen pantry was
some choc’late cake mix.

‘midst the morning mist,
the field beyond seems painted
with watercolors.

tanka haiku:

My cleaning lady,
back from vacation, claiming
to have seen the Pope.

She adored, in Ecuador …
t’was the Holy See she saw.


I remain in awe
of the lives that have touched mine.
Each brought a lesson.


A slice of apple,
a wedge of sharp cheddar cheese,
And a well-worn book.


Deep in the forest,
patches of stippled sunlight,
warm a leaf-strewn trail.




We search for meaning,
but as we wander through Life,
fog envelops us.


Do you spend your days
mopping up calamities?
or creating them?

Will you ever wake?
Or will you dream forever?
Will you ever know?


My Siamese cat
sits at the window, and stares
at distant mountains.

 


Mary had a lamb,
And little though it was … it
started stalking her.

Irony-ku:

Few will ever know
private failures we endure,
unless … we succeed.


“Stained glass is easy …
Comedy is hard” – Louis
Tiffany Lampshade.


When you have a lot
that’s on your mind, let your day
begin quietly.

I have been searching
for this girl most of my life.
I found her at six.

(Summer of 1957.  I was 6 and a half.  She was … I don’t know.  I don’t even remember her name  But I was smitten by her smile … and amazed that a pretty  girl LIKED me!)

And finally …

Sometimes you have to
take a deep breath and just blow
the roof off the dump.

(This is the fabulous Broadway Star, Sutton Foster, showing how it’s done.)

And if you liked that, here is a Sutton Foster encore from “The Drowsy Chaperone” …

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