Another Day Late Year-End Review (Pt. 2)

 

 

Part Two of the Haikulodeon’s Year-End Review. 

The Best of the year’s comments in haiku form. 

Thanks to all for such a wonderful assortment of haikus.

 

****

 

 

Talking with strangers
seeing I did not get it
let me know my size.

moat

Let me know my size,
but please keep in mind that I’m
constantly stretching.

 

barefooted

 

 

inside his wallet
a five-spot making the rounds
scotch, with a beer back

 

Oxy Mora

 

Inside his wallet
was a lonely place to live,
Single sawbuck sighs.

MrSmith1

 

In between the lines
was a lonely place to live …
so she used crayons.

 
barefooted

 

In between the lines,
she’d written stage directions.
Smart understudy.

MrSmith1

 

In between her lines
she practiced for the next one
“Hark, a noise yonder”

 

Oxy Mora

 


Hark! A noise yonder
echoes through the dark of night
Gather the horses!

MrSmith1

 


inside his wallet
a five-spot plans its escape
“the usual, Flo”

 

Oxy Mora

The usual flow
receives the usual ebb …
The moon rules the tides.

MrSmith1

 

They are so so pure
They smell so so very nice
They are without sin

There is purity
This new babe will be middle
A fetus decides

Surrounded by girls
This time it might be a boy
Daddy loves his girls

It might be a boy
Mommy feels a ‘difference’.
A boy lies within

No sonogram yet
But Daddy loves his babies
And yet I shall pray

Watching families
Develop before my eyes
I feel there is hope

Watching these children
Develop with parents who care
Gives me so much hope

Richard Day

 

Many a great man
has been brought low by the smell
of baby powder.

MrSmith1

 

She was just a child
when an angry world destroyed
her innocent glow.

Cynical and hard,
she fought back against questions
that would plague her dreams.

As the years collapsed
into desperate struggles,
life began to change.

Quietly, she learned.
With steadfast resolve, she grew.
She was worth the time.

barefooted

 
I gave you my heart.
You only wanted my seeds;
Flash of waxy rind.

 
moat

 

I gave you my heart …
even though its sweetness died
a watery death.

 

barefooted

 

I gave you my heart
and now my blood is pooling.
Form follows function.

MrSmith1

I gave you my heart.
Tuck it in your shirtwaist and
gaze at it often.

MrSmith1

 
I sent my baby
A birthday card for her First
Singing telegram

I wrote her my take
You will soon find out that you
Are the middle child

And that’s just okay
But you shall always
Be in the middle of my

Heart, my heart will be
With you, and always
One year is a mark

Time goes on and on and on
Time goes and I love this girl

Richard Day

 

She’s hurting tonight.
The brother she loves is lost
inside homelessness.

But it’s too simple,
too innocent to say he’s
washed inside the dark.

He walks his own path,
finds a way to make her laugh;
even as he cries.

barefooted

 
Wouldn’t it be nice
If we could step back just once
From now to back then

All the adult fears
worries and complications
turned back to a game.

Once it was “play right”
And all we had to risk was
Losing or be spanked.

Wouldn’t it be nice
To face the world with support –
“Mommy, I’m so scared…”

Blood is thicker than
Water, and sticks around all
These tough, trying years.

PeraclesPlease

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.

 

MrSmith1

he said I love you
in a yellow subtitle
so, how does she know?

Oxy Mora

Keith Partridge singz it
Shirley Jones plays tambourine
Yellow feathers coo

PeraclesPlease

 

 

Shirley Jones could sing
without help from Partridges …
or that stupid bus.

MrSmith1

Sometimes she would lead
Sometimes she would sing backup
Danny did the drugs.

PeraclesPlease

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

 

MrSmith1

 


Constitution Day
the date Ramona arrived,
as well as myself.

 
Oxy Mora

 

Strict interpretists
Birthed on Constitution Day.
Original intent?

 

PeraclesPlease

 

Who ya callin’ strict?
A living Constitution
aches with growing pains.

barefooted

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

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

MrSmith1

Stripped contortionists
Constitutionally blocked –
Philly bustier? Ding…

 
PeraclesPlease


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

MrSmith1
A leotard change its
stripes? spotted the diff’rence right
away. Some G-string.

PeraclesPlease

 

All the Amendments?
Yes, we were making stuff up.
The ad reads like this:

   Serial monogamist
seeking a perfect union.

moat

A bill of rights ad?
“Serial monogram-ist
must love acronyms.”
( USA, NATO, FEMA,
FBI,  FDIC )

MrSmith1

 

Juicy strawberries …
covered in melted goodness …
healthy chocolate?

Call it what you will,
decadent sin or pleasure,
but who really cares?
…life is about the mixture
that creates the perfect blend.

barefooted

 
Moistened, red petals
softly lifted toward the sun …
asking for its kiss.

 

barefooted

 

The fire is on fire
until the fuel runs out
and it burns itself.

   Bank the coals like a jail bird
evading the search party.

 
moat

 

 

tanka haiku:

When you decide to
give a flame a hot-foot, you’re
fighting fire with fire.

    but ’til the fuel runs out, you’ll
not remember which ember.

MrSmith1

 

 

Heat is compounded
by the confusion of flame,
and it burns itself.

    Seek a measure of moisture
chilled by the secure snowbank.

barefooted

 

I was in trouble.
When she removed her diphthong,
mah face cawt fie-yer.

moat

 
Conflagration is
the conflation of flame with
oxygen compounds.
Except, of course, hydrogen,
which will rain on your parade.

MrSmith1

 
Shattered, broken bones
dance between the memories
of pain and pageant,

all the while feeling
the necessity to live,
even as they die.

    
barefooted

 

Sometimes it’s over.
Sometimes it doesn’t implore
an explanation.

Because it’s limping.
Because it needs to be shot
to bleed an answer.

 
barefooted

It was a good day,
he wanted to give up but
decided not to.

Oxy Mora

Spilling onto the
wooden deck behind the house,
wild purple asters.

 
MrSmith1

 


Love is like Monday.
It takes up what was laid down
and draws you back in.

    The steps are new and awkward.
Echoes off old walls warn me.

What kind of lover
comes to the doo wop party
wearing bell bottoms?



Yes, there is nectar.
But your beak need not explore
each flower that blooms.

moat

 

If I were so right
How can I remain so left?
I am not so right

I am not so right
Because I find myself here
not so right I guess.

 

Richard Day

 
Oak leaves were falling
A north breeze swirled around
We stacked the firewood.

 

Oxy Mora

We stacked the firewood
then trudged through the mud to the
hen-house to get eggs.

MrSmith1

 
An oak tree was felled
Split firewood took the first breath
Fresh and sweet, what’s this?

Oxy Mora

 

Pardon, sir, but that
bag doesn’t seem to quite fit
the look of your suit.

barefooted

 

Pardon, sir, will that
knapsack make Hackensack or
even hobo kin?

 

Oxy Mora

 

 

Latest job attire.
Bernie Sanders won it all
Down-sized Goldman Sacks

 

Oxy Mora

 

If Justice is blind,
the service comes at a cost;
The scale must be held.

Power is a thing,
with properties and essence:
Like something you touch.

I want to kiss you.
Your glance repels and welcomes.
Love is not easy.

moat

 
Though Justice is blind,
the all-seeing eye takes note
of our transgressions.

Give glory to God
in all you do or speak, keep
His word within reach.

 

 MrSmith1
 —
If life were easy
Anyone could do it see?
Justice is not blind

We must really see
Who the participants are
And also hear them

Blind justice is bad
We need judges who will see
The bad from the good.

(I get a kick out of this)
I think I am stuck in Mobile

Richard Day

Stuck in a mobile?
call Alexander Calder
and he’ll get you out.

MrSmith1

 

Blind means impartial.
The fold of cloth applies some
pressure on the wound.

moat

 

 

Blind also means a
place from which you can shoot ducks.
Mallard lives matter.

 
MrSmith1

 

 

I want to lie down,
just like a cat, no good thoughts,
no plans, no regrets.

Oxy Mora

 

 

I dug a well deep
well, I can dig deeply if
I really want to.

 
Oxy Mora

 

 
I dug a well deep
until I reached the surface.
So much in between.

 

barefooted

 


I dug a well deep,
so deep I became unwell
be well, stay shallow

MrSmith1

 

 

Red hair, a black cat,
green as the spot to slumber.
Blind relaxation.

barefooted

 


There was a black cat
It was a very dark knight
I didn’t see it

A Guy Called LULU

 

 

With her ‘familiar’
The red-haired witch dreams fondly
Of Halloween night

 

flowerchild

 
Hags hoard hellish heaps.
Goblins gobble glucose globs.
Toothless trolls trade tolls.

    Such a night of ceaseless fright,
Tells me: Floss that overbite.

moat

 

I heard that he whored
a herd in a hoard, which ain’t
hard for hordes to hear.



MrSmith1

 

Looking for room mates,
females only, no smoking,
thorns need not apply.

 
Oxy Mora

Looking for room-mate;
Garden apartment / low rent
No dogs. Must like pink.

 
MrSmith1

As generations
bloom, we must always prepare
for new arrivals.

barefooted
—-

 

Sometimes while sleeping,
reality hijacks dreams
and specifies fear.

    Waking leaves us shaken, but
often fortunately stirred.

barefooted

Sometimes while sleeping
I visit alternate worlds
to try other lives.

   I often wake with a start,
but seldom with a finish.

 MrSmith1

 

Stirred, but not shaken
is possibly the best way
to describe solace.

barefooted

 

But shaken, not stirred,
is what WILL get you to a
Quantum of Solace.

MrSmith1

 

It’s time to bed down.
Honey, did you bring the tent?
No, I thought you did.

Forget everything
Stretch this moment forever
life is a sunset.

Oxy Mora

Some of us question,
others find their certainty.
In the end, we’re awed.

barefooted

First, we hemmed and hawed,
Then, we understood; we’re flawed,
In the end, we’re awed.

 

MrSmith1

First, we hemmed and hawed,
but eventually let
go and just guffawed.

 
barefooted

 


Dillied and dallied,
til the damn bowling alley’d
Opened, then we played

PeraclesPlease

Roundly applauded –
with however you called it,
must have spelled relief.

Rambunctious laughter
Leaves one smitten with rapture,
Feels draining after.

PeraclesPlease


The masthead beckons
Us mere haiku acolytes –
Should we be beacons?

But don’t just shout “Gawd!”,
as comes out a trifle odd,
a bit overwrought.

Heidi and her goats,
Haiku yodel-ay-ee-hoo,
hike the mountain path.

PeraclesPlease

 

Japanese bombing
Cut short lovers’ honeymoon –
Most inauspicious

American bombing
Cut short war in Pacific
Was it terrific?

PeraclesPlease

 

American bombing
Horrific or terrific
depends where you stood..

MrSmith1

 

 

I feel like a seed.
Floating, drifting, drying up.
It must be autumn.

Then I find winter.
Chilled, yet hydrated I grow.
A secretive sprout.

What’s this? Is it spring?
Allow me to lose myself.
There’s just so much dirt.

I gave it my all.
Dying, drooping, summer heat …
’til they start again.

barefooted

I have never heard
It just aint right until now
It just wasn’t right

Low down cryin’ shame
It surely was never right
What it is you did!

This is delightful
The dark is always ‘fore dawn
ANTICIPATION

 
Richard Day

 

I saw the shadow
when the light was behind me:
Dark thing advancing.

moat

I saw the shadow;
paralyzed with doubt and fear
I recognized me.

 

barefooted

Line up excludes me.
So I do not qualify:
A person at large.

 

moat

A person at large.
Line me up; disqualified.
Seeking a homeland.

barefooted

A person at large,
escapes their hum-drum routine
enjoying small things.

MrSmith1

 


I saw the Shadow …
weeds of crime bear bitter fruit,
Evil lurks in men.

 

MrSmith1

Will this be the night?
She turned to me, lips parted,
“You seen a green flash?”

Oxy Mora

Will this be the night?
Well, the sun IS setting … and
lights are coming on.

MrSmith1

It seems so soothing
when beauty consumes you ’til
another day dawns.

    Then again, repetition.
Obviously tomorrow.

barefooted

 

Blizzards began here
On the nineteenth of this month
Snow everywhere

Thought Purgatory
Was someplace in Wyoming
But it is right here

I am bad enough
Or not good enough to be
In Purgatory

Richard Day

 

A celebration!
Well, still in the making, but
soon to be new born.

    Is a promise forever?
It’s a fam’ly Thanksgiving!

barefooted

Twins came at same time
As Thanksgiving Day that year
Two turkey oven.

 

PeraclesPlease

A wonderful year;
no doubt filled with all the shit
true love can provide.

barefooted

On the bleakest day,
There is still, in our hearts a
Chance for thanksgiving.

MrSmith1

We’re all still waiting
for the new to reach the old …
and for baby, too.

Operator, please!
Long distance information
is sorely needed.

A mother and child
are sleeping in peaceful bliss.
There is nothing more.

 

barefooted

 

A rooftop fiddle
plays as street music rumbles …
racism endures.

barefooted

 

Racism does not
endure, it is always on
the verge of dying.
Good people will always be
the enemy of hatred.

A rooftop fiddle,
balanced precariously
still plays, ‘Tradition’.

 
MrSmith1

 
Sunrise meets sunset,
balanced precariously.
Tradition changes.

barefooted

 

Where there’s tradition,
there’s pride for the way one lives
L’Chaim … To Life!

MrSmith1


It’s far too simple
to avoid what is unknown;
best to embrace it.

barefooted

 

To avoid what is
unknown is to stop asking
questions.  Keep learning.

Life is a question
Our quest for knowing is the
path on which we walk

MrSmith1

Life is a question
that doesn’t always depend
upon whom it asks.

    Most of the time, we find the
answers are debatable.

barefooted

What are you in for?”
Multiple counts of haiku.
“A life sentence then?”

Great expectations
lash the sailor to the mast
or steer towards the rocks.

 moat

 

What are you in for?
Involuntary haiku …
Ahh, forced perspective.

MrSmith1

Maybe words themselves
are wrapped up in the power;
like small magicians.

moat

 
Outside conditions,
when driven by a beat of
seventeen drums, roar.

barefooted

 

Drums snare our foot steps,
lifting knees, bracing shoulders;
What a strange parade!

moat

Lifting and bracing,
we walk along our parade …
and choose the drummer.

barefooted

 

Like small magicians,
words wield power creating
subtle illusions.

 
MrSmith1

 

Subtle illusions
differentiate the dream
from the heartfelt life …

    both require innocence;
neither one a conclusion.

barefooted

 

At Eight after Ten
she decided to turn him
up to Eleven.

barefooted

Skinny legs hold up
the curious bystanders …
what’s up over there?

barefooted

Thanks to all for a wonderful year of haiku banter.  See you next week!

*****

 

 

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