MrSmith1's picture

    Playin' the Poem Card on a Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

     

     

     

     

    Here's this week's heap of haikus:

     

     

    I often wonder
    what cows in fields must think when
    men on bikes ride by.

     

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    Elements of style,
    Hallmarks of erudition ...
    Shut up, already.

     

     

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    I feel quite blessed for
    I am easily happy-ed
    and slow to sadden.

     

     

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    riddle-ku:

    Why is a cat like
    a burning monk? 'Cuz neither's
    putting itself out.


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    Lunch with an old friend;
    laughter at shared history,
    tears for tomorrow.

     

     

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    Life's overwhelming
    Ev'rywhere I turn, brings pain,
    I'm feeling helpless

     

     

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    Sitting on her porch
    on a Summer's afternoon,
    she likes the cool breeze.

     

    (My maternal grandmother about 1917)
     

     

     

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    Beauty is fleeting,
    like Cinderella rushing
    back home at midnight.

     

     


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    Married for ten years
    and never an argument ...
    just bitter feelings.

     

     

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

     

     

     

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

     

     

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    When you have learned to
    accept what you can not change;
    what can't change, just might.


     

     

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    tanka haiku:
     
    Small dogs are barking,
    the TV in the bedroom
    says the market's up.

       The sun has still not risen
       as we are saving daylight.

     

     

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    At the Hootenanny,
    he fell in love with Mary,
    sans Peter and Paul.

     

     

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    Debating a duck
    ain't easy; it depends what
    topic's on the bill.


     

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    Crushing a spirit
    through humiliation is
    what breeds most evil.

     

     

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    Nut-so or Schizo,
    it strains at the wits so,
    I use Ju-jitso.


     

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    double haiku:

    Riding the porch swing,
    we kiss while listening for
    your father's footsteps.

    The moonlight creates
    shadows which tease my desire
    your allure is pure.


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    Fitful nights will pass.
    Sleep will overtake sadness.
    A new day will dawn.

     


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    A sliver of moon,
    slicing through the clouds, restless
    shadows roam the fields.

     

     

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    He felt bottled up
    by Scottish fashion designs ...
    "Take heed, it kilt me."

     

     

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    tanka haiku:

     

    Men of La Mancha
    spend most days just straightening
    the tilted windmills.

    A knight in Gail will sing at dawn
    following romantic 'dreams'.

     

     

     

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    Regrets percolate
    under calm demeanors and
    drip grounds for divorce.

     

     

     

     

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    She'd prove, she said, her
    state of emergency ... by
    hardly emerging.

     


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    To remember love
    is to journey through the soul
    and restore the heart.

     

     

     

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    It was a new look
    for the British embassy ...
    and a lot more fun!

     

    (Photo courtesy Kristina Rebelo)

     

     

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    Architecture that
    inspired awe surrounded us,
    and we tore it down.

     

    (The old Penn Station, 1936. Photo by Berenice Abbott.)

     

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    An over-dose of
    an antidote, will become
    a poison itself.

     

     


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    On the road of Life,
    focus on what drives your heart,
    not the radio.

     

     

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    ... and Hope shall lead them,
    it shines through darkness ... besides,
    who else knows the way?

     

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    South wind, cloudy sky
    the ever-present mountain
    never once asks why.


    Katsushika Hokusai (Japanese, 1760–1849) | Red Fuji

     

     

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    tanka haiku:


    Alas, we live in
    a linear existence;
    the Past is prologue.

        But that is only because
        we are walking in circles

     

     

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    The setting sun sinks
    into the ocean, stealing
    all light from the sky.

     

     

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    double haiku:

     

    I advocate but
    I do not insist.  All hearts
    will change when ready.

    The flag that I plant
    is but a marker, that says,
    seeds were buried here.

     

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    Idyllic dream-scapes;
    lush, green mountains still surround
    the Hudson River
    .

    (Painting by John Frederick Kensett (American, 1816–1872) | Hudson River Scene )

     

     

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    Set wide the window
    and let me drink in the day
    for I'm feeling parched.

    (from an Edith Wharton quote ... more or less.)  

     

     

     

    ****

     

     

     

     

    Comments

    I enjoyed them.  Your graphics has been eye catchers lately. I haven't had much time to comment on them. They do look good for Spondyville. 

    I got the Beef Stew Blues from all the cooking I do. 

     

    Thanks, trking!  Just for fun, I try to come up with at least one new graphic every week.  

     

    When I eat beef stew,
    I think that each leftover
    got a second chance.

     


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