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    A Slightly Delayed Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon



    Here's this week's heap of haikus:



    I wander the streets
    confused and bleeding, I can't
    find my way back home.






    There's an urge within
    that tells us; go to the sea,
    make peace with the tides.







    Turn away your thoughts,
    hide them from a stranger's eyes
    lurking in the dark.









    double haiku:


    I feel like a seed;
    purposefully planted and
    lying in my bed.

    I doubt, that a sprout,
    ever made it through a drought,
    without any gout.





    Growing pains aside,
    his childhood was happy.
    Well ... relatively.






    Each year we gather
    to rejoice and to give thanks
    for we are so blessed.

    Let each turkey slice
    and wedge of mom’s pumpkin pie,
    demonstrate our thanks.

    Mash the potatoes,
    baste the turkey, eat some pie,
    then take a long nap.






    A crumpled fender,
    wrapped around a barber pole,
    could mean a close shave.







    At the sky’s edges,
    mountaintops still pierce the clouds,
    to peek at heaven.









    Do not weep all night
    then wonder why the world seems
    so full of teardrops.








    A remote sand dune,
    hides a young couple in love,
    from all but one dog.






    Success often stands
    on the shoulders of failure.
    So don't wear spiked heels.







    (Photo courtesy Kristina Rebelo)





    He tried to please her,
    he tried to reason with her,
    she tried his patience.








    tanka haiku:


    His reading glasses
    slid right down his nose and dropped
    into the toilet.

    This dilemma was not solved
    until he could stop laughing.







    Though she pined for him,
    she could not find a way to
    gracefully forgive.







    A haiku for aspiring writers ...


    The plot thickens when
    you're married to the ending
    but wake with a start.








    Wishing for rainbows
    is fine, but refracting light
    through a prism … works.






    A yellow note was
    pasted on the scaffolding ...
    "Soft heads need hard hats."








    Mental environs
    are of our own making. We're
    lost in our own maze.









    Through an iron fence,
    I watch autumn leaves fall on
    empty park benches.






    On his head, "Gramps" wore
    a blue Yankees baseball cap,
    which made him feel young.









     March to diff'rent drums,
    waltz to other violins,
    but by all means, move ...




    Gladys clutched her purse.
    At rush hour, doors of the train
    don't close right away.

    (1950 NYC rush hour - unknown photographer)





    double haiku:


    As the morning dew
    disperses, flowers bloom, a
    gardener curses.
    Why's the gardener
    apoplectic? 'Cuz he needs
    some antiseptic.







    A lazy river
    that winds through a lush valley,
    still will reach the sea.







    tanka haiku:

    A wilted flower's
    not a metaphor for your
    Life, it's a warning.

    When you remove yourself from
    what nurtures you, life's over.





    Reading comic books
    and playing travel bingo
    got them to Grandma's ...






    Behind the pool hall,
    drunken teens sit quietly,
    getting their first tats.






    Aggravating man,
    infuriating woman;
    Act Three, they're in love.







    Coming down the steps,
    she held onto the handrail
    with a fierce-some grip.








    Purgatory; a
    place for the not good enough
    and the not so bad.




    The lines in her face,
    though evident, were softened
    by her joyful smile.






    Driftwood in the sand,
    long removed from livelihood
    this soul-less tree branch.








    On grey, rainy days,
    she first sulked at the window,
    then, wished for blue skies.








    Leaves would follow her,
    tumbling in her wake like
    fawning sycophants.







     I hear distant trains
    and imagine going home ...
    whistles on the wind.







    Mary had a lamb,
    And little though it was, it
    started stalking her.





     Silent flutterings,
    and pirouettes in mid-air ...
    butterfly's ballet.







    Coffee on the porch,
    watching kids on bicycles
    chased by barking dogs.








    Some people live in
    anticipation, others
    prefer cipation







    double haiku:


    Misery and pain
    yet, laughing in spite of things


    Whinging and whining
    'stead of resigning, may be
    the key to success.


    (About ten or twelve years ago, I 'met' a fellow Spondy online named Charlie Foulkes.   She lives in the U.K., just outside London.  She is a very talented musician and now a mother of two daughters.  I've had her self-produced album, "University of Life" on my iPod since she sent it to me a dozen years ago.  Today she posted this song, which I never heard, called Misery, which she says she recorded over 20 years ago.  It's infectious and made me laugh, so I thought I would share it with my friends at Dagblog.  I will try to post some more of her songs later.)  .




    If you'd heard Lincoln
    give the Gettysburg Address,
    Would you ever move?

    (Nov. 19, 1863, Abraham Lincoln gave the Gettysburg Address. One of those present, a  9 year old boy, named William R. Rathrovn, who, in 1938 made a recording of his impressions of being mere feet from President Lincoln while he gave the great speech.)





     She whispered to him,
    ‘I’ll fulfill all your dreams' … But
    he’d dreamt of Pirates.







    Not a day goes by
    I do not wish you loved me
    and I know the truth.




    Hopes all inflated,
    our dreams are ever rising.
    The future is ours.







    Sunday in the Park,
    sitting, relaxing, watching
    as the day's revealed.






    No-one can deny,
    everybody's got the right
    to have their own dreams.





































    I saw the shadow
    when the light was behind me:
    Dark thing advancing.

    I saw the shadow;

    paralyzed with doubt and fear

    I recognized me.

    Line up excludes me.
    So I do not qualify:
    A person at large.

    A person at large.

    Line me up; disqualified.

    Seeking a homeland.


    Excellent, Missy!

    A person at large,
    escapes their hum-drum routine
    enjoying small things.



    Good one, moat!

    I saw the Shadow ...
    weeds of crime bear bitter fruit,
    Evil lurks in men.

    Haiku Challenge


    Will this be the night?

    She turned to me, lips parted,

    "You seen a green flash?"


    Good one, Oxy!!

    Will this be the night?
    Well, the sun IS setting ... and
    lights are coming on.



    It seems so soothing

    when beauty consumes you 'til

    another day dawns.

    Then again, repetition.

    Obviously tomorrow.

    Good one!!

    Thanks for the lovely music. 

    Other than my friend, Charlie's Misery song, it's a Sondheim-fest.  I just was having thoughts about him this week.  I've been a Sondheim fan for nearly 50 years.  He is the last giant from the golden age of Broadway musicals and I don't want him to ever go away ...

    Blizzards began here

    On the nineteenth of this month

    Snow everywhere

    Thought Purgatory

    Was someplace in Wyoming

    But it is right here


    I am bad enough

    Or not good enough to be

    In Purgatory

    Cool weather is late this year for us.  It starts to drop under 60 at night in the middle of October. Tomorrow night it will finally do that.  It will go down to 68 tonight. Tomorrow night it will drop to 50.  I am looking forward to it. 

    A celebration!

    Well, still in the making, but

    soon to be new born.

    Is a promise forever?

    It's a fam'ly Thanksgiving!

    My loved one's loved one's are having a loved one!! In the process of, but all is well. Isn't it nice to know that sometimes nothing else matters?

    Twins came at same time
    As Thanksgiving Day that year
    Two turkey oven.

    A wonderful year;

    no doubt filled with all the shit

    true love can provide.

    Congrats, Missy!!  Wonderful news!!


    On the bleakest day,

    There is still, in our hearts a

    Chance for thanksgiving.

    We're all still waiting

    for the new to reach the old ...

    and for baby, too.

    Operator, please!

    Long distance information

    is sorely needed.

    A mother and child

    are sleeping in peaceful bliss.

    There is nothing more.

    Wonderful.  I love the smell of babies when I hold them close. 

    Even my babies'
    Shit smelled better than the rest.
    Natural selection.
    (innate preference)

    You never cease to surprise me, PP.  

    Blogger named PP,
    writes haiku about doo-doo ...
    We know where this ends.

    What goes round comes round
    Garbage in mesns garbage out,
    (aka binge/purge)

    What is childhood
    But a focus on basics,
    Bodily functions

    You keep doing these four line things that look like haiku ... except they have four lines.  Trust the 3 line format.  We don't need the joke explained.

    In Heisenberg's world
    Each outcome occurred, pair o'
    L realities
    (Schroedinger's kitty)

    As a friend once wrote
    to the poet Eliot;
    "T.S., 'Cats' is Dead."




    David Bowie starred
    in Cat People; Nastassja
    Kinski too. Not dead.

    Portrait of artist
    As young man: moocow tuckoo
    Kaka & doodoo

    You should really go to Reddit 

    with the potty mouth stuff and

    hang out with other 6th graders.

    *Yawn*  That was really juvenile. 


    James Joyce created
    the inner voice, juvenile
    streamed consciousness.

    Forward to today
    we only trot out Freud in
    college...way too late

    Kafka revealed
    the horrors of our childhood
    bugs and stuff, despair

    J. Alfred Prufrock
    Brings us up to modern times
    On crutches, crippled

    Post-modern times look
    Much like the earlier ones
    Without all the shit

    It's the scent of pure innocence, momoe, which explains why - in spite of efforts from powder to perfume - it's never been reproduced.

    I know.  There is nothing better then a baby to hold and rock.  The sweet smell of their little heads pressed against you. 

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