Yet Another Laborious Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

 

 

 

 

Here’s this week’s heap of haikus: 

 

 

Autumn taught ’em, when
the first leaf falls from a tree
Summer soon will wane.

 ( I saw that first leaf today, lying quietly on the sidewalk.)

 

 

 

 

Labor Day double haiku:

 

Forty hour work weeks,
Safety and child labor laws …
a minimum wage.

Unions, walk outs, strikes,
picket lines, arbitration …
Which side are you on?

 

 

 

 

Our Ford Country Squire
strained hard to pull the trailer
up Mount Washington.

(Our old Ford Station Wagon with a trailer attached, the Summer we went camping at Lake Sebago in Maine.)

 

 

 

 

 

Moonlight Sonata
played like a cantata, will
give you stigmata.

 

 

 

 

 

A smokin’ Tom waits
for the pentameter gates
I am (something) verse.

“I am bic”, he yelled,
but t’was easy to tell, he
was a fountain pen.

 

 

 

Coming down the steps,
she held onto the handrail
with a fierce-some grip.

 

History today!
The Japanese Surrendered
ATMs arrived!

(September 2, 1945, the Japanese formally surrendered, ending WW2.  On September 2, 1969, the first ATM in the U.S. starting giving out money.)

 

 

 

 
On grey, rainy days,
she first sulked at the window,
then, wished for blue skies.

 

 
They sway with the breeze,
which is why her little dog,
barks at sunflowers.

 

 

 

 

 

 
Weary troubadour,
guitar slung across his back,
thumb out to hitch-hike.

 

 

 

 

 

 
It’s been said that in
the wasted pursuits of youth
live our old-age dreams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The deepening blue
gently quiets golden waves.
Nightfall approaches.

 

(Photograph courtesy of Kristina Rebelo)

 

 

 

 

 

In a small garden,
pansies wait patiently for
roses to be picked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Like they always say,
Love is blind, but absinthe makes
green whores Jane Fonda.

 
“The Absinthe Drinker” by Viktor Oliva 1901

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kindergarten art
saved by mom for 50 years,
always makes me cry.

 

Actual work of art created by me in Kindergarten circa 1955. I called it, “The colored lights of Niagara Falls.”   I found this in the 1990’s in a box my mother had saved of me and my sister;s early creative efforts. As you can also see, I still hadn’t quite mastered how to sign my work of art. The second photo is the scene that I drew from memory.

 

 

 

 

In an apple tree
sits a happy little boy
dangling his feet.

 

 

 

 

 

Faceless men wander
city streets searching for hope
in the pouring rain.

Manhattan rain, unknown location, 1945. Photo by Arthur Leipzig

 

 

 

 

 

When she walked away,
I brought my hands to my face,
To hold in my dreams.
“Without a warning
Trucks collide near the corner
Police cars converge.
Of Life’s many truths,
all come down to just one fact;
you can’t hide from cats.
Don’t resist urges
from an impulse or desire …
they will point the way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Few half-way measures,
get as much coverage as
a partial eclipse

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

When daffodils bloom,
near the edge of one’s garden,
passers-by may pluck.

 

 

 

 

 

Sitting quietly,
pondering vicissitudes,
sure works up a thirst!

 

 

 

 

 

tanka haiku:

 

She wore pink spandex
on her summer vacation,
which caused a riot.

Cops came. She got arrested,
and did a stretch in prison.

 

 

 

 

double haiku:

 

Oh, sweet saxophone,
play for me a most gentle
lullaby for Bird.

I passed his house on
Avenue B* today and
whispered, “Too soon gone.”

 

(Happy would-have-been 96th birthday on August 29th to Charlie Parker.)

 

 

 

 

 

double haiku:

 

When I was young, I
looked in strangers’ faces to
find the familiar.

Now that I am old,
I look in strangers’ faces
to find the unique.

 

 

 

 

Wise people see what
is truly needed, not just
what is desired.

 

 

 

 

Under the bleachers,
I watch the rain coming down.
No ballgame today.

 

 

 

 

Walking through my dreams,
happiness collides with fear,
and love’s born anew.

 

 

 

 

 

While meandering
on a quiet, lonely beach,
fog envelopes me.

 

 

 

 

 

Checking Lotto tix
Sadly, more disappointment.
Boo-hoo, no Woo-hoo!

 

 

 

 

Another baseball-ku

 

He steps to the plate,
Takes a strike, then swings away,
A ground rule double!

 

 

 

 

The hardest question,
Makes us all weak in the knees,
‘Do you still love me?

 

 

 

 

 

 

From his lack of sleep,
he tended to forget stuff,
Like, “Why am I here?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Harmonizing with
his mates kept the mood bright and
his life in accord.

 

 

At Disneyland, there’s
a room you can visit when
you’re not “tall enough”

 

 

 

 

 

Sitting ‘midst the white
bougainvilleas, Emily
read a Chekhov play.

Delicious solitude” 1909 by Frank Bramley (1857-1915)

 

 

 

 

 

 

What if we defined
being healed, as re-gaining
your sense of purpose?

 

 

 

 

haiku quintet:
I can no longer
listen to people that speak
only of Life’s pains.

Who encourage friends
to believe the world is bad.
The world is the world.

It’s not good or bad,
it’s a reflection we cast.
Tilt your mirror up.

Surround your heart with
flowers and sweet music and
gentle natured friends.

Keep your mind on the
things that move you forward, and
seek joyful moments.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Drawn lines create space …
it’s how we define our world selves;
establish context.

 

 

 

 

Though old of age, he
felt he still had tales to tell,
and trails to wander.

 

 

 

She no longer cares
if she impresses others,
she just likes to sing.

 

 

 

It’s a bit awkward
when your wife and your sister
are having a spat.

(A family photo from the 1920’s.  I’m guessing the shadow with the feathery hat taking the photo is my maternal grandmother.)
 

 

 

 

 

We had a good time.
Everyone we knew was there.
At the County Fair.

(My maternal great-grandmother and step-great-grandfather circa 1925)
 

 

 

 

—-

 

 

Breaking Election News!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Spondyville News: 

 

 

Labor Day Weekend in Spondyville:    Two of Spondyville’s fraternal organizations will continue their friendly rivalry tomorrow … The Penguins and the Turtles will once again oppose each other in the Annual Mayor’s Imaginary Football Game, which will be “played” at Brogna Field at 2 PM. The Spondyville Fusers baseball team, the normal occupants of Brogna Field, this year, find themselves playing a Labor Day Doubleheader over in Oswego with the Oswego Osteos (also known as “The hobblin’ O-Os.)

The Mayor’s Imaginary Football Game is traditionally held each Labor Day and benefits the Uriah Stoop Home for Old Codgers.   The first Mayor’s football game was, of course, tackle, but that resulted in the infamous ‘Broken Bone Bowl’ of 1954.   The rules for the game were then switched from tackle to touch football, but even so that still resulted in multiple injuries every year.   At the request of Spondyville General Hospital, the rules were changed from touch to imaginary in 2004, with the result that neither Penguin nor Turtle has since required a trip to the ER due to their participation in the game.

You can find out more about Spondyville’s two fraternal organizations here:

http://www.spondyville.com/Page122Penguins.html

http://www.spondyville.com/Page123Turtles.html

 

 

Bonus poem:

 

About a dozen years ago, I was lying in a hospital bed (for some reason, I forget exactly which one … ), and the television had not been hooked up yet, so I was listening to The Raymond Scott Quintet on my iPod … Raymond Scott was a popular big-band leader from the late 30’s and 40’s, who, later, became one of the pioneers of electronic music. He was also married to singer Dorothy Collins and worked for Mo-Town in the 60’s as head of their electronic music division. One of the songs on the album was titled, “Yesterday’s Ice-cubes are Water Today.” So I start making up this poem in my head, using the title of the song as the first line of the poem, but not having pen and paper handy, I had to keep repeating it over and over in my head until the next morning when I was able to write it down … Anyway. I came across the poem today and it still makes me chuckle.

 

—-
Yesterday’s ice-cubes are water today,
What once was cool has melted away,
Evaporation must come to us all,
Back up to the clouds so the rain can then fall,
Fall to the stream, flow to the river,
from faucet to freezer we soon start to shiver,
We’re back being ice-cubes,
don’t know where or when,
we just know the process starts over again,
Our minds try to tell us there is only the Now,
As if Life after Now is a fiction somehow,
But the soul goes on being,
though each time here is fleeting,
To glimpse the eternal,
well … that would be cheating,
For we are just ice-cubes,
at being cool, we’re the best,
We can understand melting,
but have to trust all the rest.

 

****

 

and here’s the song of the same name by Raymond Scott:

 

 

 

****

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