An Historical Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

 

 

 

Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:

 

 

 

double haiku:

Sunday’s Father’s Day.
I wish I could celebrate,
instead of just mourn.

My dad left too soon
and yet …after all these years,
I still feel his love.

 

Photo#1: My dad, me and my sister circa 1954.
Photo#2: Me and my dad circa 1951

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

tanka haiku:

 

Leafy canopies
Riding up Riverside Drive
Sunset through the trees.

   The world looks like a painting,
without either cares or fears.

 

 

 

Seeing photos of
my father acting silly
always warms my heart.

(My dad at Fort Sill, Oklahoma in 1942.)

 

 

 

 

 

When you feel alone,
Remember, feeling alone,
is quite popular.

 

 

 

 

 
Troubles never last,
Like cream poured into coffee,
They’ll soon swirl away.

 

 

 


Panoramic sky
We drive into the future
chasing after clouds.

 

 

 

 

The sun arrives to
softly muted trumpets and
leaves to violins.

 

 

(photo courtesy Kristina Rebelo)

 

 

 

double haiku:

 

June of 1215,
King signs the Magna Carta
Runnymede was made.

“Oh”, laments King John,
What is the world coming to?
Revoltin’ peasants!”

(On June 15th, 801 years ago, King John signed the Magna Carta )

 


Rhapsodic Romance;
our souls dance joyfully to
our heart’s cantatas.

Skirmish to Sortie;
When Birdland flies off to War …
Cue the Pelicans.

(Photo courtesy of Kristina Rebelo)

 

 
tanka haiku:

 

From her widow’s walk,
she gazed at the horizon,
hoping to catch sight

of sails from her husband’s ship
returning from its voyage.

 

 

Watergate break-in
a second rate burglary.
Nixon knew it all.

 

(June 17, 1972 … White House operatives are arrested for burglarizing the offices of the Democratic National Committee in the Watergate office complex.)

 

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

 

 

He’s close enough to
stare, and old enough to know
what’s worth staring at.

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

Sitting quietly,
a Beatles tune in my head,
I yearn for lost loves.

 

 

 

Lunch with an old friend;
laughter at shared history,
tears for tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Laurel & Hardy
escalating anarchy
another fine mess.

 

 

(Happy 126th would-have-been birthday this week to comedy legend, Stan Laurel.)

 

 

 

 

 

On Bunker hill, there
is a monument for a
fight fought on Breed’s hill.

(June 17, 1775 – The battle of Bunker Hill … which actually took place on and around Breed’s Hill … But never mind that.)

 

 

 


When I was younger
I feared I’d become my dad
I did and I am.

Many years have passed and I’ve
learned I had nothing to fear.

 

 

 

 

 

The nun flashed a grin
when I said it must have been
Jesus’s lunchbox

 

 

 

haiku quintet:

 

Ripping a heart out
isn’t hard.  We are fragile
We cry easily.

Even when the pain
that we feel is not our own
We cry easily.

and we tend to bleed,
our vulnerability
apparent to all

we know our weakness
is ev’ryone’s weakness … yet
we can’t stop loving.

For Love imbues us
with the stuff we need so that
we cry easily.

 

 

 

Sitting in my yard,
watching the moon peeking out,
from behind storm clouds.

 

 

 

 


The huddled masses,
enlightened by Liberty
shall cast off their chains.

 

This week in 1885, The Statue of Liberty arrived in the United States. (Some assembly required.)

 

“Okay, let’s begin.
Insertez-vous tab A?!  Damn!
The plans are in FRENCH!”

 
A shuttered cottage.
Dust settles on empty chairs.
Sunlight peeks through shades
.

 

 

 


 

 

 


a tangerine sky,
clouds that haunt the horizon,
lure me into night.

 

 


 

 


Alone at Midnight,
Walking through old neighborhoods,
Searching for my past.


 

 

 

 

By a waterfall,
The lovers had a picnic,
all the food got wet.


 

 

 

If this train runs right,
I will see my gal tonight.
My heart leads me home.

(Thanks and a tip of the hat to Woody Guthrie for most of the words to this one.)

 

 


 

 


No-one was at home,
A note slipped under the door,
‘Sorry ’bout the tree.’

 

 


 

 

 

A stone partition
never stops my neighbor’s dog
from barking at me.

 

 

****

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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