MrSmith1's picture

    An Extremely Late Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

     

    Here's this week's heap of haikus:


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    Still feels like Winter
    All I do is stare at the
    flower wallpaper.


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    Wearing a sweatshirt,
    I nurse a cup of Joe and
    read the New York Times.

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    There is a large crowd,
    lined up 'round Tompkins Square Park.
    Bread line?  Movie Shoot.
     

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     Clumps of tourists gawk,
    in the middle of Times Square
    The neon dazzles.

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    His tortured soul found
    small measures of contentment
    just beyond its reach.


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    When she walked away,
    I brought my hands to my face,
    to hold in my dreams.

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    A New Yorker in
    an Oklahoma dorm room,
    soon downs his first Coors.

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    Traffic-clogged streets made
    worse by double parked trucks, and
    dumb damned dog walkers.

    ---

    She sneezed her dress off
    Which caused quite a kerfuffle
    in the Library.
     

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    Alone at Midnight
    walking through old neighborhoods
    searching for my past.

    ---

    Suddenly, footsteps!
    A shadow in the doorway ...
    Then, a match is struck.


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    After the rainstorm,
    the city's lights shimmered in
    street corner puddles


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    double haiku:

    An Irish Setter,
    gallops through Riverside Park,
    greeting each toddler.

    His owner just laughs,
    reassuring scared nannys,
    the dog is friendly.


    ---

    Each day, he walked through
    his garden and picked a rose
    to place on her grave.
     

    ---

    Silent are the trees
    through harsh winters, stoically,
    they wait for the Spring.
     
     

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    Swirling embers rise,
    riding a smoky breeze, then
    die, and fall to earth.

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    Souls forge truth and hope,
    while minds dream up fantasies
    and hearts search for love.


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    I walked through a field
    to get to the main road, and
    lost all track of time.


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    Glowings in the sky;
    Aurora Borealis ...
    looks quite magical.

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    Triple haiku:

    Outta Coffee ... D'OH!
    Scrounging through kitchen drawers.
    Looking for tea bags.

    But tea is a sad
    substitute for my Java ...
    I crave Maxwell House!

    And so, resigned, I
    put on pants and socks ... and shoes
    and walk to ... Starbucks.


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    tanka haiku:


    96th Street's ramp
    to the West Side Highway is
    a thing of beauty.

       A tree-lined, curved underpass
       with a view of the Hudson.



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


    ---


    A wedge of cheddar
    a slice of apple pie and
    things are lookin' up.


    ---


    Wistful reminders
    of what you mean to me, are
    shoved under my bed.


    ---


    Whispering willows,
    drive the other trees crazy.
    Why can't they speak up?


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


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    Good God, she's naked!!
    He wasn't often flummoxed,
    but this ... well ... gee whiz!


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    Simple Simon met
    a pie-man, who'd sold his pies,
    Simon sez "Hands up!"

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    My heart lives near the
    sycamore and still blossoms
    after ev'ry rain.


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    Here is a lesson
    to be learned and not forgot;
    While music plays, dance.

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    Your world's no larger
    than the size of your heart and
    the depth of your dreams.


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    If you want the world
    to be your oyster, it helps
    to know how to shuck.


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    Rivers of flowers
    flow through California fields
    far as eyes can see.



    (Thanks to Kristina Rebelo for the use of her photograph.)

     

     

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    Will you shine a light
    to help us pierce the darkness?
    April's almost here!

     

     

    Comments

    Nice.   You always brighten my day.


    As always, a delightful, insightful collection.  I don't know how you do this week after week but I'm glad you do!


    Saw this tonight and thought immediately of you:

    https://www.facebook.com/schultz.connie/posts/10152283475355272?


    Thanks Ramona!!  It's funny, I used to tweet all my haikus one by one,. but it just took so much of my time I couldn't keep doing it.    I'll try submitting something.

    Here's a call for haiku from the NY Times that another friend told me about.  I've only submitted one so far, but may try to do more over the weekend.  The deadline for this one is April 5th.

     


    I miss nursing my

    espresso. How best to press?

    Good Coffee not there

     

    It is espresso

    and not expresso. Haha

    Magic in caffeine

    Oooooooooooooh, the initial

    Initial taste on the tongue

    Espresso just rules

    There is a whole foods

    Store down the street I might pass

    From time to time tho

    When snow melts and I

    Rethink my real existence

    I may revisit

    There is something true

    About a real espresso

    Just so you might know


     

    I have no idea what this means except that Now, I feel a real need for a real espresso with a cig and it is all your damn fault. And this Beatles' song is just for fun! I don't even know if the haiku syllable count is right here. hahaha

    hahahah



     

    My first landlord in

    New York was named Guisseppi.

    He loved Bustelo.

     

    He was a tailor

    in a Long Island City

    men's suit factory.

     

    He would tune in to

    Op'ra on radio and

    soccer on TV.

     

    He drank espresso;

    Bustelo espresso and

    Artichoke liqueur.

     

    He was my landlord

    for over 20 years.  We

    would communicate

     

    through hand gestures for

    he spoke little English and

    I, no Italian.

     

    On late Summer nights

    he'd bring me tomatoes from

    his backyard garden.

     

    Sometimes we would sit

    jn lawn chairs in the garden

    And drink espresso.

     

    It wsa too bitter

    for my taste, but not for his.

    He loved espresso.

     

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    Clouds of tourists clump

    over wet streets in Times Square;

    The neon drizzles.

     

    These years in orbit

    around my only planet

    make for a full moon.

     

    Dog chases the stick,

    Returning it to be thrown;

    A language game.


    Ha ha ha!  Wonderful, moat! 

     

    A dog that sticks to
    chasing rather than chasing
    sticks, has learned something.

     

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    In a rocket ship

    orbiting the planet, I

    photograph the moon,

     

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