A Nakedly No-Frills Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

 

 

Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:

 

 

Do not obsess on
the follies of youth, but how
you overcame them.

 

 

 

 

“Call me Istanbul …”
because Constantinople
is a real mouthful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Many lives touch ours,
some merely pass close enough
to have an effect.

(Yvonne Choteau – RIP)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Moon behind the clouds,
dew forms on the meadow grass
a gentle wind blows.

 

No-one ever knows
private failures we’ve endured,
unless we succeed.

 

 

 
Hoping for the best,
but expecting the worst, gets
you a bit of both

(The theme song to “The Twelve Chairs” by Mel Brooks)
 

 

Fine fettles of fish,
fancily filleted, fed five.
Flounders feast filling.


 tanka haiku: 

Bittersweet choc’late …
then morose maple syrup,
where does it all end?

With comatose caramels?
The Domino (Sugar) theory.

 

The worker began
rummaging through his tool-box,
looking for pliers.

 

 

tanka haiku:

A marionette,
still dangles from the door-jam,
no longer dancing.

His room remains as it was,
His mom still goes there to cry.


 

 As you get older,
perspectives change; trivial
matters fall away.

 


Being unemployed
will lighten your wallet and
darken your outlook.

 

 

 

Flying by the seat
of one’s pants sounds like fun, but
when landing, heads up!

 


Raising awareness?
Grand Finale or Grand Mal?
Seems like a bad choice.


 

 Why climb up a tree?
To brag to all of your friends,
‘I’m higher than you!’

 

She was of good faith
and did all the right things, but
still, she felt empty.

 

Minimize your pains,
and maximize your blessings,
and keep marching on.

 

 

 

Opening new doors
will oftentimes take more than
a handful of keys.

 

 

 

 

I sing to the Lord …
because, at this point, He is
sick of me shouting.

 

 

I need to hear you,
as I draw my last breath, tell
me that I was loved.


 

Formerly treasured
knick-knacks in the garbage can?
The whim of ‘the wife.’

 

 

 

Geese, dogs and seagulls,
seldom think beyond right now,
Man does nothing but.

 

 

Where is happiness?
In the hearts we make glad, and
the souls we comfort.

 

 

Brightly colored flags
flapped happily in the breeze;
quite a stirring sight!

 

 

 

Then his blushing bride
ripped off her clothes and whispered,
“Wanna consummate?”


And so, moving on,
he gave up all his comforts,
to find a new path.

 

 

 

 

Weary troubadour,
guitar slung across his back,
Hitch-hikes cross-country.

Two minute warning,
it’s first down and goal to go.
Don’t fumble the ball.

 


 

tanka haiku:

Sirens start screaming
in the middle of the night,
causing dogs to bark.

Then, the neighbor’s lights go on.
… I drove through their shrubs, okay?


I can not tell you
how deep’s the ache in my soul …
but, thank God, you know.

 

 
There will be more snow
and much cold will chill you, but …
April come she will.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

tanka haiku

 We should live our lives
as if we were near-sighted;
Don’t focus too much

on small things up close, and
keep it blurred ’round the edges.

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                       ****

This entry was posted in The Haikulodeon. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s