A Snow-covered Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon


Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:


triple haiku:

Consistency makes
unimaginative lives
seem less vacuous.

Consistent is not
a value, it’s an action.
(Erratic is too.)


Be bold when needed,
steady when necessary.
Enjoy ups and downs.


Immortal souls stuck
inside mortal bodies … That’s
one of God’s jokes, right?



The blaze of Autumn
has finally withered and a
gnarly winter blooms.

Please prioritize;
horses go before carts and
socks on before shoes.



He buried his fears
in the pleats of mother’s skirt.
(It still feels like home)



Snow covered cherries
hang on their trees, confused by
global warming trends.


Snow falling on West Ferry Street in New Hope, PA last Sunday afternoon




Loose gold plates bang the
backs of holy heads and thus
bring Golden Slumbers


Osservanza Master (Italian, active second quarter 15th century)
Saint Anthony the Abbot in the Wilderness | ca. 1435

(bonus related poem: )

Sewing nuns with nimble thimbles
wearing very simple wimples.
sew and stitch which pops their pimples.

(From Mrs Paul’s letter to the Corinthians)



A tired day must end,
to let the night begin so
we may build new dreams.

(Photo courtesy Kristina Rebelo)



an open window,
a breeze blows in from the sea,
making curtains dance.


“Wind from the Sea” (1947) –  by Andrew Wyeth


South of the border
waking in an unpaid room
minus a kidney.






Only jokers pray
for that lullaby of blues;
four clubs and a spade.






They stood, waiting for
the world to find them
in Gotham’s canyons.


Bitterly blue day;
Grape Nuts are not nuts at all …
and cheese with mold, stinks.




A haiku for Martin Luther King Jr.’s Birthday:

With hearts full of grace,
and souls generating love
we shall overcome.






Xmas Leftover-ku #1



Dear Lord, I have had
enough red for one lifetime.
Yours truly, Santa.




Xmas-Leftover-ku #2


If you don’t clean that
Chimney, elves will kill your dog.
Yours truly, Santa.  








Ev’rything went dark,
bluest blue of indigo,
became burnt umber.



You’re movin’ too fast,
I’m just tryin’ to keep up.
Please darlin’ … slow down.


(The great Paul Butterfield with the RCO All-Stars)





Fear is a fabric
that folds under stress, and when
in hot water, shrinks …






Reaching for the moon
Is an admirable goal.
Having patience helps.







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








Live a life of love,
look to better angels, carve
your own walking stick.




Pretending we’ll meet,
each time I turn a corner
makes me walk faster.





Deer in the headlights!
Brakes slammed, tires squeal! Seat-belt grabs!
Adrenaline pumps!



Moon behind the clouds,
fields aglow in bluish light,
as foxes prowl.





He kept calling her
in spite of all the danger
of falling in love.



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









The wind fills our sails,
we glide ‘gainst a golden sky
Sea salt in our hair.


(Photo courtesy Kristina Rebelo.)




When it comes to a
thermos nuclear war, it’s
bring your own lunch box.






The most courageous
words ever spoken, must be,
‘So … let us go on.’








A leaf-less tree frames
a lonely farm-house in the
middle of nowhere.






Three annoyed children;
forced to wear their ‘Sunday best’
on a Saturday!

(My dad, the youngest child in that photo, would have been 102 years old yesterday.)  




It’s always fun to
see one’s father as a boy …
the journey so clear.




I wish I could have
known my grandmother, it would
have explained so much.


(My father’s mother also had a birthday yesterday.
She would have been 134. She passed away in 1938.)





(My mom in 1920 enjoying the snow in a suburb of Chicago.)




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