The Bishop and the Butterfly: Murder, Politics, and the End of the Jazz Age
    MrSmith1's picture

    haikus for another Friday afternoon ... in which we dream of sanity and deal with illusions

    By MrSmith1 on Fri, 12/02/2011 - 12:52pm |

     

     
    This week's batch:
     
     
    Somewhere in the deep
    recesses of my brain, sleep
    forgotten haikus.
     
     
    tanka haiku: The Twenties; when men
    still swam in tanktops and the
    women bobbed their hair.
        Both drank 'bootleg hootch', while young
        flappers danced to jazz rhythms.
     
     
     
    Our paths never crossed,
    Alas, they only entwined.
    How did we get here?
     
     
     
    She whispered to him,
    'I'll fulfill all your dreams ...', But
    he'd dreamt of Pirates.
     
     
     
    Siamese twins are
    conjoined. Why are Siamese
    kittens just confused?
     
     
     
    On the old man's slacks,
    surviving countless washings;
    sticky store labels.
     
     
     
    Goin' down the road,
    to that shack across the tracks
    where love is hiding.
     
     
     
    A glass of ice cubes
    a pitcher of lemonade
    who hid the vodka?
     
     
     
    An angel's blessing,
    cleanses souls and awakens
    hearts to receive love.
     
     
     
    Words do not always
    mean what we think, sometimes we
    mis-read intentions.
     
     
     
    Silver icicles,
    drip from Christmas tree branches,
    teasing the kittens.
     
     
     
    Calling your version,
    'the truth' only means you call
    your opinions, 'truth.'
     
     
    We reap what we sow,
    sew what we rip, and never
    Mark Twain shall we meet.
     
     
     
    Anguish and remorse
    when embraced by solitude,
    will shed bitter tears.
     
     
     
    The beauty of Life;
    On rare occasions, it will
    approach perfection.
     
     
     
    Willful solitude,
    exacerbates loneliness.
    Breathe the city air.
     
     
     
    An empty teacup
    perched on a piano stool
    still can't play "Chopsticks".
     
     
     
    We may not agree,
    but I understand your fears
    and hope you're okay.
     
     
     
    Back to work today
    after a restful week off.
    Where do I begin?
     
     
     
    Judging from sales stats,
    you might never imagine
    Santa employed elves.
     
     
     
    Snow days filled with fun,
    sledding down my neighbor's hill.
    crashing into trees.
     
     
     
    The teenager asked,
    'Why are naps so important?'
    His grandfather laughed.
     
     
     
    This Saturday morn,
    the sun's out, the sky is blue
    I'm still missing you.
     
     
     
    He took his sweet time
    opening the envelope,
    building the suspense.
     
     
     
    Alas, we live in
    a linear existence;
    the Past IS prologue.
     
     
     
    Bayberry candles,
    in the windows, pine needles
    on the parlor floor.
     
     
    -------------------------------------

    Comments

    All is in each touch.

    But I forget so quickly.

    Let me try again.

     


    by moat on Fri, 12/02/2011 - 9:55pm

    Nice moat.  

     

    One touch, I'm 'all in', 

    but how quickly time passes.

    Let me try again.

     

    I am touched at once

    so I quickly try again,

    but I forget why.

     

     

     

     

     


    by MrSmith1 on Fri, 12/02/2011 - 10:16pm

    I cannot recall

    the darkest corners of time

    without you and me.

     


    by moat on Sat, 12/03/2011 - 10:57pm

    Wonderful!

     

    The darkest corner
    of my being still can not
    forget your true love. 

     

     

     

     

     


    by MrSmith1 on Sun, 12/04/2011 - 12:22am

    Because of my dreams

    each one held your image true

     we now live that dream


    by Anonymous (not verified) on Sun, 12/04/2011 - 12:58am

    Wonderful, Anonymous!


    by MrSmith1 on Sun, 12/04/2011 - 4:43am

    Great as always.

    When I am experiencing my more psychotic thoughts, I truly wonder if our universe is linear in nature.

    I sense Sam Clemens on the porch sucking on a cigar and experiencing his neighborhood.

    I can almost see my little brother David climbing a tree at our lakeshore encampment in the olden days.

    It is only the future that seems beyond my grasp.

     

     


    by Richard Day on Fri, 12/02/2011 - 10:37pm

     

    Samuel Clemens 

    on his porch, smokin' cigars

    "Huck Finn, off my lawn!"

     

    Climbing up the tree

    than bragging to your brother,

    'I'm higher than you!'

     

    Is it so bad the 

    future's just beyond our grasp?

    We'd screw it up too.

     

    Perhaps I should re-write the earlier one thusly:

    Alas we perceive
    a linear existence,
    the Past IS prologue.

     

     

     

     


    by MrSmith1 on Sat, 12/03/2011 - 2:17am