A Bitterly Blue Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon


Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:



My car windows would
seem an unlikely source of
Sunrise reflections


(Photo courtesy of Kristina Rebelo)






When they told him she
has a Swiss movement, he thought
she melted easily.






Ev’ry move she makes,
he’s gathering evidence
why she should love him.






the old men whittled,
she leaned against the gas pump
he grabbed a ‘soda’.







Beethoven, Mozart
Hayden, Mendelssohn and Brahms
all music is math,






Pow! Bam! Biff!  Batman!!
Tune in again next week, Same
Bat time, Bat channel!

(50 years ago this past week, Batman premiered on TV!)





The Kiso mountains;
snow covered peaks stretched out like
sleeping polar bears.

Utagawa Hiroshige (Japanese, 1797–1858) | The Kiso Mountains in Snow – 1857






tanka haiku:

Pushed in his stroller,
He did NOT know how to tell
his mother that he

    does NOT support Women’s Rights.
Plus … his diaper needs changing.

Suffragette parade, New York City, 1912.





When the world’s too big,
and life’s problems overwhelm …
can I runaway?

    This I wonder, my little
Run, run, run, run, runaway





John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) |

The Wyndham Sisters: Lady Elcho, Mrs. Adeane, and Mrs. Tennant | 1899




In spite of the cold,
a bird sits on a branch and
sings its song of Spring.








Icy sidewalks dare
my hip replacement; take a
walk on the wild side.








Desire often hides
within the structure of Life
masking intentions.







The end of the world
will always draw a crowd to
watch the damned fireworks.










Outside my window,
furious snowflakes mingle,
fearful pigeons roost.






haiku trio:
He stared at her face,
searching for the smallest sign
that she forgave him.


She stared at the floor
wishing he would go away
for she felt ashamed.


When their eyes met, they
felt nothing but the sorrow
of a love that’s lost.









Wellsprings of Support
may flow from unknown sources
to lift up your life.









Comfy and cozy
and wrapped in a patchwork quilt,
she sipped some hot soup.










Any given day,
swirling leaves will seem confused
by the winds of change.










Shifting winds. Light rain.
He unzipped his coat. She closed
her red umbrella.









Thoughts would come to him
like bolts of lightning striking
down old maple trees.









Dreary Winter’s chore;
gathering kindling, then
lighting a warm fire.









If you have a job
with no time parameters,
you must be shiftless.






There is nothing left,
and nothing’s right without you.
So I sing the blues.







 When you search for God,
don’t forget to close your eyes …
(God hides in our hearts.)

Her withering glance
told him he’d said too much … and
he’d sleep on the couch.





tanka haiku:

Perusing the hall,
he picked out a girl and tried
to make eye contact.

At first, she acted shy … then,
she slowly … drew him to her.


tanka haiku:

The old weathered barn
still advertises Mail Pouch
chewing tobacco.

Irony? The old farmer’s
long dead; cancer of the gums.



Though fragile hearts need
whispered blessings, they also
need a steady hand.


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



This week’s heap is a little light.  Sorry.  I’ll try to add more as the weekend progresses.  

Happy Friday!!





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