A New Beginning on a Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

 

 
Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:

 

 

 

On the eleventh
Month, day and hour – at long last,
the guns fell silent.

 

 

(Pictured: The Spondyville mascot, Stiffy the Snowspondy, visiting the Anglo-Belgian War Memorial in Brussels a few years back, to pay tribute to all the fallen heroes of WWI.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
haiku: Jamaican cabbie
tells me his philosophy;
“no matter, birds sing.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
So long, Marianne,
It’s time that we began to
cry laugh about it all.

Leonard Cohen RIP
 

 

Bonus: 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A half a’ sandwich
in a plain brown paper bag
can give a child hope.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her touch was so soft,
her gaze so encouraging,
his heart filled with joy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In a nursing home,
The youth of sweet yesterdays,
Wait for tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s instrumental;
We elected a bassoon.
Oboe, that’s treble.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

haiku quintet:

 

My heart will still ache,
my head will carry sadness,
my happiness end.

the world no longer
will inspire the birds to sing
or dogs to love you.

old chairs will fail you
they will throw you to the floor
life will spit on you

The fundamental
notion of the universe
has been disrupted.

and all we can do
is to absorb the shock and just
keep moving forward.

 

 

 

 

 

 
tanka haiku:

 
Why is losing good?
It’s an opportunity
to re-think your plans.

    No defeat lasts forever,
no victory ends your quest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The clouds in the sky
are drifting by … lazily
I sit and watch them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Past rejoices
Our clocks have all fallen back
The future delayed

 

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t feel discouraged
when your back’s against the wall …
you’ve found some support.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
Scarlett’s quiet quip,
‘Got kudzu up the wazoo’,
made Rhett Butler laugh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He’s considered dull,
just muddling through Life, yet
his heart slays dragons.

 

 

 

 

 

Autumn in New York,
leaves crackle underfoot as
I stroll through the park.

 

 

 


 

 

Tower of London;
where you can find graffiti
that pre-dates ‘Banksy.’

 

 

 

 

 

At the timberline,
the earth fell away and the
sky overwhelmed me.

a desperate tree
tried to hold back the clouds, but
a stormy night prevailed.

 

 

(Photo courtesy of Kristina Rebelo)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
You know tain’t right to
treat me like you do … It’s a
lowdown cryin’ shame.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The dark before dawn;
lonely hearts beat quicker in
anticipation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The one thing we do
that’s as powerful as Love
is … that we Forgive.

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

Ah, consistency …
It’s not just over-rated,
it’s the same old stuff.

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

In Autumn’s dotage,
death’s a gentler tiger,
greeted with a grin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He strolled along the
back roads, with his mandolin,
singin’ for supper.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She smiled at me and
for one brief moment we both
felt the world was safe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We shall persevere
and rise again tomorrow
to tend our gardens.


 

 

 


 

 

 

Repudiate all
reasons that keep us fighting.
Let us heal our hearts.

 

 

 


 
 


tanka haiku:

 

 

There’s no growth from pain.
Growth comes from a willingness
to endure the pain …

 … as the cost of each lesson.
Otherwise, it’s just suffering.


 

 

 

 

 

 

double haiku:

 

While they were still young,
the world seemed full of promise,
then … we went to war.

Soon, the fighting would
be shaking optimism
out of people’s hearts.

(My parents in early 1942, a few months after they married.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

A new moon will shine
on an old village square, and
make a piazza.

 

 

 

 

 Do not weep all night
then wonder why each day seems
so full of teardrops.

 

 

 

 

 

 


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

 

 

 

 
 A haiku cycle in 4 parts:

 

 

20’s-ku:
The promise of youth
may be mere speculation,
but it’s all I’ve got.

30’s-ku:

The promise of youth
it had to be postponed, but
it will be fulfilled.

40’s-ku:

The promise of youth;
a lie, a sham, a fraud … but
it kept me going.

 

60’s-ku:

Without promise or
any fanfare, a writer
completes his novel.

 

 

 

 

 

All things have endings
and a natural timeline
regret not the end

for new beginnings
will always follow along
to start things over.

 Whatever ends will
begin again; our journey
is but a circle.

 

 


 

 

Put your burden down
let your worries melt away
it is sleepy time.

 


****

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