Singin’ the Blues on a Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon




Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:




An immortal soul
demands that you acknowledge
heaven gets crowded.







Slouched in a corner,
of a dingy juke joint, a
young man learns the blues.







Ducking down alleys
looking for a few close shaves
scored some Mary Jane.









You cheated, then lied,
Now you say that you’ll be good …
Which you should I trust?





Lord, keep me healthy,
gals in dirty dungarees,
start my rodeo …








Cold-hearted woman
on a hot Summer ev’ning,
loosens my collar.





tanka haiku:


Why do we suffer?
Does it purify the soul?
Is it bad karma?

Do pure souls ever suffer?
What if it’s all just random?”





Got up this mornin’,
I believe I dust my broom
You can wring my mop.






A knock at the door.
her face rings a bell  … My past
has caught up with me.







I like her paint job
and she’s got a stick shift, but …
too many drivers




My sweetheart wandered,
And made a fool out of me,
all my love in vain.








He beat out rhythms
on the edge of his guitar,
while his voice would scat.



Settin’ on my porch;
‘Why did my woman leave me?’
Sing those Whiskey Blues.






Feel so down and out,
I can’t deal with all the pain;
buried in the blues.









Soft hands on rough stone,
grasping for crevices, will
soon form calluses.







All things pass away,
And all relationships change,
We are in motion.








New England autumns,
The trees ablaze with colors,
A chill in the air.







All’s right with the world,
but I am still left-handed,
looking for scissors.









Pig’s feet and possum,
Mama serves them with some yams.
Down home country meal.










Lost my job today,
All my friends lost their jobs too …
The factory closed.









My red-haired woman,
wagged her finger, shook her hips,
taught me ways to love.







Anguished and in pain,
she never thought that her life
would end up like this.


Pies on windowsills
send aromas wafting through
the nearby schoolyard.



Ten, Jack, Queen, King … Four.
It’s time for Ted to go home.
Poker can be cruel.



Carol’s begonias
offer a coral contrast
to mom’s yellow mums.





She has a great smile;
it can send him to the moon.
So … he makes her laugh.






Walking in Spring rain,
past flowers being nourished
and snow drifts destroyed.








A nuanced answer’s
often misunderstood … or
picked apart by ‘friends.’


My baby left me,
all I do is sit and cry,
forlorn forever

Sitting on my porch,
watching the day going by,
Night time hide my tears.







I’m feelin’ homesick,
for the town where I was born,
Life was easy then.







Blistering come-backs
raced through his head, but all he
could say was, “Oh YEAH?!”




double haiku:

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

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




Driving blue highways,
seeking out less traveled roads,
small town life endures.









 Now that I’m alone,
my mind will sit in corners
and think about you.



Got the pastel blues,
no spectacular failure,
just a shade away.


If you’re blue and want
to feel happy, listen to
Potato Head Blues.


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