The Bishop and the Butterfly: Murder, Politics, and the End of the Jazz Age
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    A Mid-January Friday Afternoon Thaw at the Haikulodeon

    By MrSmith1 on Fri, 01/17/2014 - 3:00pm |

     

     

     

    Here are this week's heap of haikus:




    I yearn for Spring, when
    lilacs in the front yard bloom
    and eager hearts melt.

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


    -    --


    With each sun rise,
    the dramas of Life resume
    and we step onstage.

    ---



    Neither trylon nor
    perisphere could get TWO cars 
    on the LIE.


    ---



    "Dude ... aren't we getting
    way too old for this shit?"  "You're
    the endless bummer."



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


    ---
     



    Her bleeding heart mixed
    with his bloody ignorance;
    Their plasma TV.



    ---







    In this lonely place,
    the shadows offer solace
    only to the damned.




    ---
     

     


    Sweep the pine needles
    Take the cards from the mantle
    Cleaning up Christmas.



    ---



    He sat in his room
    and played a lonely waltz on
    his concertina.


    ---
     

     


    Over-heard-ku:


    "Hand me my tickets."
    "Don't you play the lottery?"
    "I have not won ... yet."

     


    ---



    Short stack of pancakes,
    coffee on the side ... Eat. Drink.
    Pay the tab and go.


    ---


    The radiator
    sputters back to life ... But the
    toaster's on the fritz.


    ---




    The doctor's office;
    where sick folks get together
    to read magazines.

    ( Did I write this or just remember it from somewhere else?  I don't know. )


    ---


    Fog on the shore road.
    A man on a bicycle
    appears lost in thought.


    ---



    Shakespeare-ku:


    Halt, twerk-ish knave! Thou
    photo-bombed Lady MacBeth!
    Delete damned Selfie!


    ( from Act 3 - Scene 1 of the lost Shakespearean masterpiece, As You Lick It. )



    ---



    I'm tied up in knots
    The Man's boot is on my neck.
    Gosh, I can still dream.


    ---

     

    Comments

    With each sun rise,
    the dramas of Life resume
    and we step onstage.

    I do not know Smith

    When it rises, there's no stage

    At the least for me

    I find that for me

    The new sun will rise each day

    But for what purpose?

    The dramas of life

    Hold so very little for....

    Oh what is the use?

    ......

    I'm goin down

     

     


    by Richard Day on Fri, 01/17/2014 - 5:14pm

     

    Do not minimize

    the role you play, my friend.  Act

    the scene, not the plot.

     

    ---

     

    What seems pointless, might

    be key to adventures, of

    which you're unaware.


    by MrSmith1 on Fri, 01/17/2014 - 5:28pm

       Here are three from Masaoka Shiki, a great haiku master, and a member of the Japanese Baseball Hall of Fame. I guess being translated would explain breaking any formulaic construction rule. I always enjoy your Friday postings. 

    the trick
    to ball catching
    the willow in a breeze

    like young cats
    still ignorant of love
    we play with a ball

    spring breeze
    this grassy field makes me
    want to play catch


    by A Guy Called LULU on Fri, 01/17/2014 - 9:21pm

    I love these.  You're right, translations almost always screw up the syllable count, but with these, the essence of the haiku comes through intact.   

    Funny, I have argued with other haiku writers about the necessity of staying with the 5-7-5 or 5-7-5-7-7 format.  Some American haiku writers say that because of the way the Japanese to English translation messes with the structure of Japanese haikus, the syllable count does not matter.  I would argue that since we are writing and having our haikus read in English, it matters.  It's the game we're playing; the challenge.  We're attempting to create a short poem within a defined structure.  If you don't want to play the game, don't call it a haiku.   When and if, our American haikus are translated into Japanese, then the syllable count shouldn't matter to the Japanese, just as the 5-7-5 structure doesn't matter to us with the translations of Japanese haikus.  That's my theory, anyway.    


    by MrSmith1 on Fri, 01/17/2014 - 10:50pm

    I like this.

    I am going to save this somehow!

    Who cares anyway? I mean structure is the essence of this exercise, but 5-7-5-7-7

    does not seem to hurt anything!

    Look at the meter sometime. 

    Like I intimated before, what does one do with the schwa?


    by Richard Day on Fri, 01/17/2014 - 11:08pm

    The 5-7-5-7-7 form is known as tanka. 

     

    Yes, you know my heart,
    for we are kindred spirits,
    walking the same path.
         But stay wary, dear friend, for
         paths, like lover's hearts, may turn.

     

    ---

     

    The schwa is eaten,

    yes eaten, by the diphthong,

    All the live-long day ...
     

     


    by MrSmith1 on Sat, 01/18/2014 - 12:02am

    Tall trees say nothing
    living only for sunrise
    Green grass becomes brown


    by A Guy Called LULU on Sat, 01/18/2014 - 2:09am

    Good one, Guy called LULU!

     

    Willows will whisper

    dogwoods have to bark, but the

    tall trees say nothing.

     

     


    by MrSmith1 on Sat, 01/18/2014 - 5:09am

    Enjoyed it as always. 


    by trkingmomoe on Fri, 01/17/2014 - 11:18pm

    On the Promenade

    Fog made Manhattan flicker.

    But then the cloud came:

    Its outline barely perceived

    Before wrapping us in gloom.

     


    by moat on Sun, 01/19/2014 - 8:25pm

    Nice.  Tanka, moat.

     

    But then, the cloud came.

    Couples stopped dancing and old

    men rose to their feet.

        Children seemed bewildered, but

        saw fear in their parents' eyes.

     

     

     


    by MrSmith1 on Sun, 01/19/2014 - 10:33pm

    Interruptions;

    One thought occludes another;

    Hats worn at movies.

      Clumsy clueless wherewithal,

      The pick pocket getting paid.


    by moat on Wed, 01/22/2014 - 7:04pm

    Nice moat. ( though one syllable short in the first line.)

     

    Hats worn at movies,

    in days gone by, were targets

    for stale ju-ju-bees.

     

    .

     


    by MrSmith1 on Wed, 01/22/2014 - 10:00pm

    It's not one syllable short if you grew up in Texas and pronounce the last one like "eons."

     

    What is this diphthong

    doing in my haiku soup?

    "The Butterfly, sir."


    by moat on Thu, 01/23/2014 - 7:45am

    HA!  Good one! 

     

    Why did the diphthong
    cross the throat? It did not see
    the glottal stop sign.

    ( I know, pretty weak response.  Sorry 'bout that.  It's all I got at the moment..)
     


    by MrSmith1 on Thu, 01/23/2014 - 8:22am