A Fixer-upper Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:

Harmonica bench …
on a harmonious beach
blues, powered by wind.

(Photo courtesy of Kristina Rebelo)

At the timberline,
the earth fell away and the
sky overwhelmed me.

a desperate tree
tried to hold back the clouds, but
a stormy night prevailed.

(Photo courtesy of Kristina Rebelo)




Know this, my sweet child,
precious are the memories,
that some day you’ll have.


You know t’ain’t right to
treat me like you do … It’s a
lowdown cryin’ shame.



The dark before dawn;
lonely hearts beat quicker in




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


Ah, consistency …
It’s not just over-rated,
it’s the same old stuff.


 To illuminate
is better than to merely shine.
Teach thinking, not thoughts.

(St. Thomas Aquinas … more or less.)





double haiku:

Ah, the Brooklyn Bridge.
This iconic span defines
grace and elegance.

Like giant harps that
span the river Jordan, the
bridge’s cables loom.

Faded love letters,
dried flowers pressed in a book …
Evidence l’amour.

When I’m all alone
in my heart and in my mind,
you reverberate.

Please stop nudging me.
I’ll get up in a minute.
Hit the snooze alarm.

Doors hold no glory
for people with tall hats, nor
a word for the wide.

A portrait of me;
my features lovingly sketched,
concealing my fears.

( Sketch of me from around 1969  –  Artist: Diana Moses Botkin )

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.



What lies beyond the
blue horizon? Isn’t it
more blue horizon?

Yesterday retreats
to the caves of memory.
Sunshine, cleanses souls.

The rain had ended.
Central Park looked lush and green
and eager with Life.

In Autumn’s dotage,
death’s a gentler tiger,
greeted with a grin.

A Veteran in
a new field finds a better
use for Death’s scythe.

Winslow Homer – The Veteran in a New Field – 1865

Before the beguine’s
begun to beguile, betray
that beignet, Buddy.

I do much wonder …
I also do much yearn and
dream of tomorrow.

Dear, Brigitte Bardot …
You inspired rhapsodies,
where has our youth gone?

Driving blue highways,
seeking out less traveled realms,
small town life endures.

You do the haiku … Write your response in the comments section

(Buster Keaton in “The General” – 1927)

He strolled along the
back roads, with his mandolin,
singin’ for supper.

She smiled at me and
for one brief moment we both
felt the world was safe.


She used her giggle
to attract young men, and her
savvy to keep them.

His corduroy pants,
‘swished’ as he walked up Broadway.
Which was … misleading..

Talking out loud while
watching ‘La Boheme’ is rude.
“Sotto voce, jerk!”



He yawns, then stretches …
Wonders why it’s so quiet …
(Awake at sunrise.)

We shall persevere
and rise again tomorrow
to tend our gardens.


Repudiate all
reasons that keep us fighting.
Let us heal our hearts.


tanka haiku:

There’s no growth from pain.
Growth comes from a willingness
to endure the pain

    as the cost of each lesson.
Otherwise, it’s just suffering.


I walked through a field
to get to the main road, and
lost all track of time.


 double haiku:

I’ll try to explain;
I’m not afraid, my mind turns
strangers into friends.

By that, I mean my
mind sorts through what’s new to find
what is familiar.

Triple haiku:

Outta Coffee … D’OH!
Scrounging through kitchen drawers.
Looking for tea bags.

But tea is a sad
substitute for my Java …
I crave Maxwell House!

And so, resigned, I
put on pants … and socks … and shoes
and walk to Starbucks.

Texting’ at Starbucks;
The Algonquin Roundtable
For witless slackers.

 A chill in the air.
I go back in my house to
look for my jacket.

double NYC-ku:

Old woman shuffles
Guy with beard argues on phone
Youngster bounces ball

Small bird pecks and hops
Delivery boy parks his bike
This sidewalk sees all.

Pretty girls pose while
waiting for the crosstown bus
on Avenue A

(Photo taken by me one night after work, while waiting for my Access-a-Ride vehicle.)

double haiku:

While they were still young,
the world seemed full of promise,
then … we went to war.

Soon, the fighting would
be shaking optimism
out of people’s hearts.

(My parents in early 1942, a few months after they married.)


In 1915,
A Bungalow in Quogue seemed
an idyllic wish.

(A Bungalow in Quogue – A song from the Jerome Kern musical, Very Good, Eddie – Broadway premiere, 1915.  Cylinder recording made in 1918 )  (Browse the recently digitized Cylinder recording archives ... )  Read an article about it here.

Without the others,
Ringo now felt a bit odd,
when crossing the street.


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