A Kerouac-ack-ack Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:

Jack Kerouac – American Haiku

I found this other day on YouTube.   It is beat poet and novelist Jack Kerouac reading his own haiku with little bits of Jazz music in between each one.  His haikus are mostly free form; they don’t, for the most part, stick to the 5-7-5 format.   Sooo … I went and picked out lines from his haikus that were either 5 or 7 syllables long and played the haiku game with them.  Here’s the results: 

“Hi”, cooed Kerouac,
“come and take a ride with me,
on the road again.”

Behind my razor
in my medicine cab’net,
lies an old toothbrush.

Drunk and bewildered …
Well, here I am, 2 PM.
Heck, what day is it?

Carefully place your
beads on the Holy Book and
pray God intervenes.

In the morning frost,
The cats step slowly,
anticipating .

A long Saturday,
raking the leaves in the yard,
Only more leaves fell.

Water seeping in
the bottoms of my shoes
walking through puddles.

meeting new neighbors,
holding up my purring cat
to show it’s friendly.

Telegram today
Urgent news from overseas
Will he? Won’t she? Stop.

Barking at heaven
at dawn on a Sunday morn,
is hell on the nerves

Uncle Jack sat, as
Drunk as a hoot owl, and tried
to count his fingers.

Working in the field
all day long wearing a hat
my hair gets matted.

the piazza is
full of aging young couples
flirting with hope.

Coming home from work,
passing the football field, I
think of homecoming.

Slowly, the worker
lowers himself from the roof,
and packs up his gear.

I seldom recall
the drunkards of Mexico
and neither they, me.

Sun shines through the trees
a boy smashing dandelions
dogs chasing rabbits.

In my camp tent, I
write letters by thunderstorm …
eat peanut butter.

Useless, useless rain.
Already watered the lawn.
Now it’s redundant.

Clothes hang on the line
a bird thrashing in the bath,
two squirrels climbing trees.

Man with a remote.
Children playing with their toys.
Woman with a cat.

(Fernand Léger – 1921 – Woman with a cat.)

When falling into
a burning ring of fire, the
fault’s in your desire.

Amidst the cattails,
and languorous in repose,
a fairy lingers …

( by Alphonse Mucha approx. 1920)

Tiny hummingbirds
hover near passion flowers
to pass on passion.

Martin Johnson Heade (1819–1904) |
Hummingbird and Passion flowers | ca. 1875–85


A triangle of
tranquility sails the sea
‘neath darkening skies.

Shafts of golden light,
signaled we’d weathered the storm,
so, we headed home.

(Photograph courtesy Kristina Rebelo)

To be committed
is to fly through each sunset
in search of the dawn.

(Photograph courtesy Kristina Rebelo)

A glorious day
shines through my window shades,and
all my fears grow weak.

Written in margins
of forgotten manuscripts,
lies many a truth.

Pancakes for dinner …
because I’m an adult and
I’ll do what I want.


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