A Frail and Ferocious Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

 –

Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:


When you see Life as
the cause, you are its victim.
You must be your cause.


She paused to reflect …
She had read this book 6 times …
Same ending each time.

Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890) –  L’Arlésienne: Madame Joseph-Michel Ginoux



Sometimes things don’t work,
and sometimes it rains candy,
but the World goes ’round …

The video is of Samantha Massell, the very talented daughter of the man I work for, Michael Rakosi.  She has been cast in the upcoming Broadway revival of Fiddler on the Roof.  Here she is singing at a popular NYC night club, the Kander and Ebb song, “The World Goes ‘Round”


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



It still feels quite moist,
and more than a bit sticky …
iced ginger cake, yum!


On Sept. 17, 1787, the delegates to the Constitutional Convention met to sign the document they had created.  Happy 238th Birthday to old “We the People” itself, The Constitution!!  (And also to Ramona and Oxy-Mora who share the same day as their birthdays!)

Triple haiku:

Preamble gamble;
Can We, (the People), ever
form perfect unions?

People trying to
form a more perfect union
must work together.

Providing for our
domestic tranquility
ain’t no game of jacks.


Lonely blue highways,
asphalts to infinity.
No rear view mirror.



Coffee and crullers,
sitting on the dock, watching
the boats come and go.

haiku quintet:

She knows through her tears
the brother she loves is lost
in a haze of drugs.

feeling so helpless
is bewildering to her
she’s been strong so long.

Devastated by
her own ineffectiveness
she sits, not moving

She cries for him now
and later for herself for
she knows he is lost.

lost until and / or
if ever her brother finds
the path back to Life.

‘cuz a woman’s heart’s
intuitive; subtler
than a sub-title.

What if we defined
being healed, as re-gaining
your sense of purpose?


A wink and a raised
eyebrow used to suffice, now,
pander trumps candor.


Striped contortionists
On the other hand, often
are quite encouraged.


tanka haiku:

Now, you can watch the
gondolas floating by on
Venetian canals …

   while you are having breakfast.
The world’s outside your window.


Purgatory’s the
home for the undecided.   So …
choose to shine or rust.


When you encourage
others to think as you do,
don’t tear down, lift up.

haiku quintet:
I can no longer
listen to people that speak
only of Life’s pains.

Who encourage friends
to believe the world is bad.
The world is the world.

It’s not good or bad,
it’s a reflection we cast.
Tilt your mirror up.


Surround your heart with
flowers and sweet music and
gentle natured friends.


Keep your mind on the
things that move you forward, and
seek joyful moments.

Words can change a mind
from thinking to agreeing.
Give it good reason.



A sincere heart is,
more likely to change the world,
than well reasoned thoughts.

Those being drenched may
not think of how they will
be blessed by the storm.

 –


A tall vase full of
perky yellow daffodils
assuaged his guilt.


Despite majestic
morns and lazy afternoons …
All days end in fire.

(Photo courtesy of Kristina Rebelo.)


 tanka haiku:  

When I am dreaming,
we somersault on the beach,
and dash through the surf.
Laughing, we stroll hand in hand,
two soul-mates who have found peace.


A careful dipping
of the brush, will ensure a
steady flow of ink.


 
Not ev’ry almond
will taste of perfection, but
all hold the promise.

 




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.


In a nursing home,
aren’t the residents too old,
not to have been weaned?


tanka haiku:

Muggy Autumn days
ought to be outlawed because
they’re damned annoying.
Too humid to wear jackets,
too cool NOT to wear jackets.

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



His shifting status,
hero one day, scapegoat next,
was confusing him.


 

Can we ever hear
the footsteps of history
marching through our lives?



The dog sniffs his food,
warily approaching it,
Fussy as a cat.

Wishing you were here.
Hoping you find happiness.
Sadly, we’ve moved on.


Have you seen my thoughts?
They sometimes wander through here,
searching for meaning.

****

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