Finally, a Finely Fried Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon



Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:
In that ‘long ago’,
all of us are ever young …
never more alive.

First, you find a place
to rest your weary soul, then
applaud your journey.

There is happiness
and when there’s happiness, it’s


Autumn at the beach;
looks like a picture postcard.
Vibrant hues, cool temps.


(Photo courtesy Kristina Rebelo)






When uncertain, he
will look to you for guidance.
Offer steady hands.



(Photo courtesy Kristina Rebelo)






Ah, the autumn leaves,
that drift gently to the ground,
blanketing the lawn.





Pillow fights online …
debating philosophy …
both get you nowhere







Silhouettes of trees
turn my river view into
a jigsaw puzzle.


A quartet of haikus:


After all these years,
I still haunt the lost and found,
looking for my life.

I still ride the train,
in hope the next station will
be where I get off.

I cross bridges knowing
I can not wash away all
the sins of my life.

I am stuck in time
living out a meager life
extracting fool’s gold.




Walking the shoreline,
the fog envelopes me and
the ocean inspires.




Delicate flowers,
Battered by the wind and rain,
Petals on the ground.








Do you fight the wind?
Do you swim against the tide?
Worlds turn, why won’t you?









The leaves drifting down,
Make a carpet on the lawn,
For kids to romp through.





Sad when Summer ends,
and the school year starts anew …
said no mom ever.




Mother Nature sends
an eviction notice and
the foliage leaves.







Regrets at sunset,
never fully wipe away,
the sins of the day.








When you are taken
out of your routine; rethink,
resolve, then re-set.




Geisha on a bridge,
watches the swans, then hurries
off to serve the tea.

Toy soldiers remain
lying in the lawn; battle
called due to bedtime.




There’s a twilight time
between dusk and eve’ning that
nurtures reflection.


tanka haiku:


Perusing the hall,
he picked out a girl and tried
to make eye contact.

At first, she acted shy … then,
she slowly … drew him to her.





To live without love
is to whisper to angels
and yet, be ignored.





Some people say that
Naked Gondoliers are what
made Venetians blind.





An incoming tide,
coral clouds at sunrise … all
of our Hopes reborn.







A doormat thrown in
the trashcan has probably
worn out its welcome.





They say that I am
hopelessly optimistic …
I just hope they’re right.




The lush foliage
of autumn, clings to trees like
those dots of Seurat’s




Bleeding hearts mixed with
bloody ignorance will soon
need a transfusion.









 tanka haiku:

From the cab of his
pickup, he could see grey smoke
rise from the chimney.

It was nearly sunrise and
he could not wait for coffee.








We drove through the night
to see the fall foliage
mirrored in the lake.









a lonely road weaves
through a dark forest. My soul
tries not to linger.



If the sky is blue,
and the grass always greener,
more books should be read.







Won’t you have some tea?
I’ll sit here eating biscuits
watching boats pass by.


James Tissot (French, 1836–1902) | Tea | 1872









Collapsed in a heap,
and yet … she watches closely
as suitors stalk her.


“The Green Cushion” ca.1895 by Irving Ramsey Wiles (1861-1948)







His trousers are gone …
her dress hangs from a flagpole …
That was some party.


Do you wonder why
all day long, you walk on air?
My friend, you’re in Love.



A red moon rises
in the sky above D.C.
the Capitol gains.

A red moon will rise
o’er a House divided and
illuminate hope.



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