A Tweet-Baiting Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon





Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:






Heartfelt homilies
give Sunday morning breakfasts
ample food for thought.










We may never know
what winds blow thoughts through our minds,
swirling up our past.









displayed in each step he takes
screams, “I’m not done yet!”








In the pizza joint,
flakes of Oregano spilled
across the table.











To remember love
is to journey through the soul
and restore the heart.









All the king’s horses,
And all the king’s men, liked their
egg over easy.










 The billowing sails,
The churning, white-capped waters,
grey skies at ebb tide.









Dogwoods are in bloom
around the traffic circle,
bumper to blossom.









The world passes by.
I look out my window and
imagine stories.









Tucked in his wallet
was a photo from his youth
of a secret love.






tanka haiku:


He sits at breakfast
quietly sobering up
sipping his coffee.

     His legs bruised, his hair matted,
and somehow minus trousers.






A wise old man sat
amidst the rubble and smiled
at all he had learned.









This is the Future
that you dreamed about while you
sat in Study Hall.







As her ‘crush’ approached,
she giggled like a schoolgirl,
her face turning red.









He lay beside her,
getting stains on his jeans from
the freshly cut grass.










Kicking off her shoes,
She ran down the beach and stepped
on a jellyfish.







triple haiku:
O’er the crest of the
hill, beyond the turn in the
road … where hope resides.

turn the corner, lift
up the veil, enter darkened
rooms, destiny waits.

Do not be fearful.
Trust that no harm will come, for
you have much to do.








Skies with quiet clouds,
a boardwalk sparsely peopled,
with folks lost in thought.









I hear distant trains
and imagine going home …
whistles ride the wind.









The fabric of Life;
From order to chaos, we
slowly unravel.













The ice machine’s broke!
Damn cheap motel in Podunk …
We’re drinkin’ warm beer.







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







 Wishing for rainbows
is fine, but refracting light
through a prism … works.







A sweltering day,
I wait for my ride to work,
counting beads of sweat.







You hope for glory …
too often settle for praise …
don’t lose your focus.








Rock and Roll bad boys
need a balance breakfast too.
Snap, crackle, pop-stars.

(Just before hitting it big, The Rolling Stones made this commercial for Rice Krispies, written by band member Brian Jones.)






Chasing a sparrow,
Doesn’t seem like such hard work,
Until it takes off.









double haiku:


Loads of Malarkey
are often delivered in
keynote addresses.

But, when Biden time,
the malarkey will flow in
other directions.








Self promotion! … or
Become a General … just
be unspecific.  








Teen-aged Romeo
waited ‘neath the boardwalk with
a cold grape soda.







Unleashing your joy
will lift you off your feet and
point you to the stars.



(Photo courtesy Kristina Rebelo)





Youth will always snatch
the hands of time from elders
and run out the clock.









Deep in thought, he walks,
Through harvest-ready orchards,
Hoping apples drop.









Never-ending songs
often go into re-verse …?
Of chorus they do.








Swimming with the tide
may take you into oceans
of profound regret.









Up hills and down dales,
I expand my horizons …
plagued by two sore feet.







In the morning fog,
the field beyond seems painted
with watercolors.









We will persevere.
We’ll wake again tomorrow
and tend our gardens.








Regrets at sunset,
Never fully wipe away,
The sins of today.









We search for meaning,
but as we wander through Life,
fog envelops us.


tanka haiku:


The curve of her waist,
the creases of her smile, the
wisdom in her thoughts.

     She slowly consumed all his
waking moments … then, his dreams.




double haiku:


Old women shuffle
Guy with beard argues on phone
Youngster bounces ball

Small bird pecks and hops
Delivery guy parks his bike …
This sidewalk sees all.






Each dusk he watched the
darkening sky’s shifting shades;
blue-ish indigo.





Too few epistles
twixt clover and thistle, but
many a whistle.







double haiku:

Jiggling joggers
waiting for the light to change
bouncing up and down

When the light turned green,
a pony-tailed tsunami
swept across the street.







The gist of each jest,
(as each guest might have guessed), was
at the host’s behest.





In the marbled foyer,
an arrangement of jasmines
offers us welcome.


If you struggle to
build ships in bottles, why not
get bigger bottles?


After the rainstorm
shimmering shafts of sunshine,
broke through the dark clouds.

(Photo courtesy my friend and neighbor, David Thompson)

 haiku + tanka haiku:
Is love illusion?
Rainbows just refracted light?
Is what you feel, real?

Do we dream at all
or is it all a dream? We
may never be sure.
So whistle if you like, friend,
we all chose which world we build.




Bonus poem: 


Time is the killer of hope,
Age the renewer of virtue.

Our vanity seeks an older mirror,
our wisdom thinks better of looking.

The strength of our passion
will yield to the weakness of empathy.

We are at war, my friend, at war.

Fighting time means ultimate surrender.
Forgiving our weakness will open ev’ry locked door.


(More Later)


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