MrSmith1's picture

    A Smoke-clearing Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

     

    Here's this week's heap of haikus:

     


    Ha, ha, ha, it's Spring!
    The lap-dogs of Winter are
    in retreat! Hoo-ray!!

     


    ---

     

     

    This, in essence, was
    the plan our moms had for us;
    wear us out, we'd sleep.

     

     

    ---

     

    3-14-15-ku:

     


    Once a year, Pi day
    comes around. It should be squared.
    But never mind that.

     

     


    ---

     

     


    The writer just smiled;
    he knew thoughts were fleeting, but
    wet ink would soon dry.

     

     


    ---


     

     

    Puddles ripple at
    the edge of a lonely street.
    Intermittent rain.

     


    ---

     

     

     

    A tangle of trees
    may clutter the morning sky
    but happily so.

     

     

     


    ---


     

     

     

    Waiting for the dawn,
    he lay in somber darkness,
    replaying events.

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

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

     

     


    ---

     

     

     

    Dogwoods bloom at last!
    Spring’s celebration of joy
    finds Riverside Park.

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

    Double haiku:

     

    In a sleepy town,
    off the beaten path, lived a
    man who knew nothing.

    He was fed by cows,
    carried by horses and was
    worshiped by his dogs.

     

    ---

     

     

     

    A lonely bus stop
    on a Monday afternoon
    I count the taxis.

     

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

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

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

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


     

     

     

    ---


     

     

     

    Alone at Midnight
    walking through old neighborhoods,
    prompts strange memories.

     


    ---

     

     

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

     

     


    ---

     

     


    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.

     

     

    ---

     

     

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

     

     


    ---

     

     

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

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

    tanka haiku:


     
    Clinging to her form,
    the diaphanous gown made
    her ethereal.

    As she stood in the moonlight,
    she glowed with Love's own glory.

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

    A tiny sparrow
    is chased by a feisty pup
    pulling a young girl.

     

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

    If you only stand
    facing West, than nothing will
    ever dawn on you.

     

     


    ---

     

     

    Young men that follow
    H. Greely's advice, will one
    day be going East.


     

    ---

     

    Ripped from the headlines-ku:

     


    An explosion rocked
    my neighborhood, and yet I
    did not hear a thing.

    That is, until the
    helicopters and fire trucks
    rushed onto the scene.

    four blocks from where I
    work, the burning buildings would
    sadly, soon collapse.

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

    The green glow of night,
    a downtown drenched in fog, an
    escape by subway ...

     

     

     


    ---

     

     

     

    Though fragile hearts need
    whispered blessings, they also
    need a steady hand.

     

     


    ---

     

     

     

    It's sad when 'modern'
    is said to be passe; the
    future is finished.

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

    The light from my room
    spills onto a snowy roof,
    Icy shadows flee.


     

    ---

     

    Locomotives rush
    across bridges and I think
    of Buster Keaton.

     

     


    ---

     

     

     


    The small magpie roosts
    on a flowering plum tree,
    a warm sun shining.

     

     


    ---


    Over a basin
    a woman washes off an
    amorous pursuit.

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

    By the lilly pond,
    she shed her inhibitions,
    and from there we fell.

     

     


    ---


     

     

     

    Tulips in the field
    chase away receding snow
    clearing paths for Spring

     

     

     

    ---
     

    double haiku:

     

    If my soul's taken
    before I should awaken,
    am I forsaken?

    don't think your soul's gone
    when you're sleeping past dawn; you
    might wake on the lawn.

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

    No longer straight-laced,
    They have, no doubt, lost their soles ...
    When work boots go bad.


    ---

     

     

    To the Master, let
    praise and cheers be given, for
    he has changed our world.

    (Happy 85th birthday this past week to Broadway legend Stephen Sondheim!)

     

    ---

     

     

    An anemone.
    yearns to be a violet,
    but feels conflicted.

     

     

     

    ---

     

     


      Tanka haiku:

     

      For long term illness,
      Life on a biologic,
      Is no miracle.

       It's a reminder of what
       might have been ... and that's enough.

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

     Too many wind chimes,
      not enough jello shots; the
      story of her life.
     

     


     
      ---

     

     

     

    He framed her photo
      in the hope that her spirit
      would never leave him.

     

     


    ---

     

     

     

    A lonely bus stop
    on a Monday afternoon
    I count the taxis.

     

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

    You must cover stops
    to start the music ...  take your
    piccolo and blow.

     

     

     

    ---

     

     

    He hesitated,
    needing to sharpen his edge.
    Time was almost gone.

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

    She wore gingham and
    polka dot dresses, which made
    her seem cartoon-ish.

     

     


    ---


     

     

     

    Old men and eye drops;
    As if we need more proof our
    aim ain't what it was.

     

     


    ---

     

     

     

    But in the end, you
    will give up ev'rything to
    do what you like most.

     

     

     


    ---

     

     

     

    As I fall asleep,
    whispers and memories drift
    through my consciousness

     

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

    In a wicker chair
    by the sea shore, sits a young
    temptress dressed in blue.

     

     

    ****

     

     

    April is Spondylitis Awareness Month. 

     

     

     

    We are walking again this year to raise awareness...

    YOU can join us!  For more info go to:

    http://walkyourasoff.com/

     

    My team is The Spondyville Fusers.   We're looking for more members!


     


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    Comments

    A wonderful spring collection of thoughts. Thank you. 


    Thanks trking.   Spring has sprung and I am wrung, but at least Dagblog is back up and running.


    I don't think Dag's been feeling well recently, and I've been alittle worried. Looks like it just gave up the brave face and decided to go to bed - hopefully Michael's homemade chicken soup did the trick!


    Not to worry - the broth didn't work, but Mike got it a batch of bathtub methamphetamine to perk it up. Now running on all 17 cyliinders. A bit erratic, but you'd be too tweaking along like that. But don't try to lower the dose - coming off the binge will likely turn vicious.


    tanka haiku:

    Peracles, really?
    Wolraich making bathtub meth?
    Strains credulity.

    Wolraich's never breaking bad,
    Dagblog deals with breaking news. 


     


    This is the third time I came here.

    Ink to paper got to me because of some site that recorded Lincoln about ink to paper that I recently read.

    It was an allusion to 'written in stone' of course.

    I cannot wax poetic today for some reason.

    But the streets and the paths are snow free, even though it actually snowed today. hahahah

    Over twelve hours of sun. I give a damn that it is under 30 F today.

    Missy's friend wrote to me tonight. These two friends hooked up a few years ago and always had my back.

    Oh, and my son emailed me with a picture of my second granddaughter today. She had tiny tiny hands and is put in front of a pretend child piano.

    I do not feel that bad today.

    TIME IS ALMOST GONE.

    hahahah


     

    One of the many things that the Peanuts cartoon strip taught me, was an appreciation for the absurdity of life;  Schroeder played Beethoven on a toy piano with the black keys just painted on ...  Your grand-daughter may be learning the same technique.   Time also marches on ...

     


    Oh I forgot all about this.

    I spoke with my son and little Jolee was certainly posed as Linus in the picture, but that little piano was 'real'. I mean the keys per modern tech really played music.

    That is why her poise was so real.

    The damn thing plays real music and the keys work. hahahahah One of the grandmamas  purchased it at a yard sale.

    I do not know why this really grabs me, but her little fingers on the keyboard mean more to me right now. hahahah

    No wonder this little piece of flesh, who just has managed to hold her head up, was so fascinated.

    By the way, when I mentioned Linus, my son went nuts. hahahah


    When I was little, I thought this was just like my relationship with my sister ...

     


    I do not know where else to put this story.

    My daughter-in-law had to visit her dying grandmama (age 80) and she took her baby with her for the trip.

    So my son had to watch Precious and care for her (with the help of his mama while he was at work)

    Anyway, he told me all about this one meal he prepared that involved soft tacos and hamburger and guacamole.

    Anyway, he was so proud to tell me on the phone about how he made this guacamole from scratch with an avocado and lemon and....

    It got to me because the muscle bound fellow on the Food Channel had made the same guacamole the night before.

    But that is not the story.

    When he presented his Precious with this plate she said:

    My, Daddy, what a fine meal.

    hahahahahahahah

    Precious is not even three years of age.

    hahahahahahah

    And, yet, she figures she must properly acknowledge what a fine job her papa has done.

    God I hope I have not taken too much of your time.

    I can't stop laughing at this and I have no idea where in the hell I would post this thought.

    hahahahahaha

    Oh I am not going to explain this any longer, except to say that you are always kind in receiving my rants.

    Thank you in advance.


    Are you kidding? I love this story!!  Precious learns quickly and I have no doubt will be just fine in Life because she's already figured out that people need acknowledgement and kindness shown towards their efforts.   She is going to be the Queen of Kindergarten.  hahahaha

    Okay, let me share a story with you in return.   I invented something the other day.   I'm sure you've heard of something called "photo-bombing" ... It is popular now, but is similar to what we older folks used to do by putting up 'rabbit ears' behind our sister's head when we were being photographed.  It's basically inserting yourself into someone else's photo and making a face to steal attention behind the back of someone while their having their photo taken.   I was waiting outside my building for my Access-a-Ride pickup, something I do every weekday, sometimes for long periods of time, and I had forgotten my iPod, so I started quietly whistling ... My street has a fairly decent flow of pedestrians, and I would always lower the volume of my whistling when a pedestrian passes by so as not to annoy them.  But ... then a young woman marched by and her speed and rhythm of movement was so perfect, I started whistling, "Wouldn't it be Loverly" from My Fair Lady ... and it was as if the two were made for each other.  I was underscoring her walk to work. So as she passed, I didn't lower my volume as much as before, but rather made sure she could just hear what I was whistling and how perfectly it fit her pace and attitude ... and that's when I realized I had invented "Whistle-bombing."  The idea behind whistle-bombing is to find a tune and tempo to match the rhythm and mood of a passerby so perfectly, that the tune will be inserted into their head and they will be humming the tune all day.  Next time you are people-watching, try it.  It just makes me laugh.   P.S. It helps to know a lot of marches.  hahahaha


    That's a good one, Smith.

    I'm going to my favorite market later this morning. "It's a lovely day to day"; "seventy six trombones";  "night and day, you are the one"; "Bali Hi". I'd be lucky to get out of there without being handcuffed.


    I had a boss for nearly thirty years who would half hum, half sing almost constantly. Quiet, easy-listening sort of music ... with a soft spot for Christmas carols. We decided his mind was just to active to ever be truly quiet. But you know, it added a gentleness to the workday - and kept us all humming along.


    THIS IS SOOOOOOOO VERY LAME, AND YET:

     


    Time will always tell

    the secrets left behind by

    history's stopwatch.


    Excellent, Missy!!

     

    Time will always tell
    whenever a law is passed
    that turns back the clock.

     

     


     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     


    Ha!

    Turning back the clock

    can make a politician's

    future disappear.


    Good one!!

    "Old fashioned values"
    can affect a state's dollars;
    Mike Pence has no sense. 
     

     


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