MrSmith1's picture

    A Pre-Super Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

     

     

     

    Here’s this week’s heap of haikus:

     

     

    Rod McKuen's died.
    All Jean would say is that he
    couldn't sing either.

     

    (Just kidding – RIP Rod McKuen )

     

     ---

     

     

    Those little evils
    buried in our souls, may smile
    ,
    in spite of themselves.

     

     

    ---

     

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


    (Photo courtesy Kristina Rebelo)

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

     

     

    ---

     

     

    Diner-ku:

     

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

     

    --

     

     

    Waveland Motel is
    where Queen Elizabeth meets
    Miss America.



    (photo courtesy Tom Contrino)

     

     

    --

     

    tanka haiku: When snow turns to ice,
    and bitter winds sting my face,
    I think of baseball.

    For Spring gets ever closer
    and umps soon will shout, "Play Ball!"


     


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


     


    ---
     

     


    Despite majestic
    morns and lazy afternoons ...
    All days end in fire.



     

    ---
     

    Resting in the shade,
    young men tried to make sense of
    the horrors of war.


    (Japanese shelter)

     

    ( Japanese warehouse )

     

    (Chopped up trees after the battle)


    The battle of Kwajalein Island began 71 years ago (January 31, 1944.) 
    My dad was there and took these photos.



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    Fitful nights will end.
    Sleep will overtake sadness.
    Things will be alright.


    ---



    Lying in a field,
    my ancestors looked at clouds
    and dreamt of my life.



    ---

     



    What you are drawn to,
    has within it, the lesson
    that you need to learn.




    ---

     


    Dimly lit streetlamps
    dot a snowy path that winds
    through Riverside Park.


    ---

     


    Silhouettes of trees
    turn my river view into
    a jigsaw puzzle.


     


    ---
     


    Don't resist urges ...
    impulsive desires will
    often point the way.



     

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    My heart imagines
    your passionate love for me,
    How long must I dream?

     


     

    ---

     

    Oh my dear sweet love,
    when you're near me, my heart leaps
    and I'm filled with joy!



     

    ---

     

    His heart had grown old,
    his spirit, weak and flagging,
    Love had shut its door.


    ---

     



    T'was love at first sight,
    First, he tickled her fancy,
    And then, so much more.


    ---


    Since the day we met,
    the creases formed by your smile,
    haved lived in my thoughts.

     



    ---

     


    Two hearts beat as one ...
    which begs the question; How high
    is their blood pressure?

     



    ---


    A sincere heart is,
    more likely to change the world,
    than a reasoned thought.



    ---

     



     A downtown cafe ...
    lovers cuddle in a booth,
    and share their dessert.


    ---

     



    Outside my window,
    furious snowflakes mingle,
    fearful pigeons roost.

     



    ---
     

     

    When you are away,
    I sit and stir my soup and
    listen to sad songs.


    ---


     


    There is an old tree
    that knows my heartaches and has
    heard my confessions.


     


    ****

     

    Prediction-ku:

    When the game's over,
    their balls will be pumped up,
    but their fans deflated.

     

    ---


    Bonus Material ... I'm still working on it ... Check back in a day or two ... or three.
     

    Comments

    This is so nice.

    hahahah

    Sonofabitch; I am counting fingers again. hahahah

    Oh well, spring will come

    I promise; spring will come soon.

    We only must wait

     

    The snow makes us clean

    And the spring just makes us green

    But it's cold outside

    Baby it is cold

    It's not like this is so new

    We've seen this before

    Weather, we can know

    Or weather we do know not

    Weather is or not

    It is our own facts

    And only through our own acts

    That seasons apply

     

     

     


    Yeah, baby it's cold,
    of that there's no doubt ... So give
    me more of Loesser.

    For better or worse,
    composing a verse, let me
    be perfectly Frank.

     


     


    Thanks Frank.

    Just do not call me Shirley.

    hahahah


    This youtube rendition is sooooooooooo damned cooooooooooool.

    I forget sometimes how the generation above me really captured wonder.

    I like this song.


    It is a great song.   I think that generation also knew how to express unbridled joy.  Sadly, it's no longer cool to act as if you're deliriously happy or full of wonder ... The Beatles were probably the last ones to be able to do anything approaching that in their music.  Almost every musical artist since has been increasingly cynical / sarcastic / angry or ironic.   Seems to me that today's generation is busy reminding us that a sense of wonder is for suckers.  On the other hand, maybe I'm just cranky and need to go to bed.   
     


    Talking movies came out at the same time as the depression and movie makers seemed to know that people wanted to escape from it with a little entertainment. They were willing to spend a dime for a little happy fun and fantasy. i could sure use some of that now.


    Really nice poem, Mr. Day. Your voice is absolutely unique and a treasure.


    Great heap of haiku, Smith.

    Fitful nights, wonderful poem.

    And the photos, wow. Are they in a gallery? Documentary level.

     

     

    He has shadow fame

    singing just like Sinatra.

    What's his name again?

     

    Stream a cop drama.

    Go to bed too tired to care.

    Wake up---there's coffee!


    Thanks Oxy.  No, those were just some photos I found in one of my boxes of family photos. If you want to see some great wartime photos, check out my former neighbor, whose photo of Marcel Duchamp I posted last week.  His name is Tony Vaccaro, and he was a photographer for both Look and Life magazines, but got his start and is probably best known for his wartime photos of Europe.  You can google him or click on the link on his name in my posting which wil take you to his wikipedia entry.  He gave me a print of his photo of Duchamp because we got talking about Duchamp one night and he told me that he had photographed him back in the 1950's.  He showed me a complete set of roto-reliefs that Duchamp had given him and we tried them out on my phonograph.   Since I had been reading up on Duchamp for a play I was writing, (The one about Art that I posted a few weeks ago), I told him that the set of roto-reliefs he had was very rare as it had to have been from the 1930's and very few complete sets were known to still exist, much less in pristine condition.  I think he had simply been storing them in a box in a plain envelope, never  suspecting they had any value.  


    That is really interesting. 

    Thanks for this weeks heap. 


    Purposeful thinking

    too often devolves into

    questionable thought.

    Resting too assured

    is much akin to sitting

    on a splintered chair.


    Good ones, barefooted!

     

    Purposeful thinking
    will devolve when what you do
    is not on purpose.

    Whenever you sit
    you must be vigilant; check
    your chair for splinters.
     

     

     

     


    The tattered, old chair

    was ignored and rejected

    'til Grandpa came home.


    On the Roadshow, that

    tattered old chair attracted

    the Keno brothers.


    The old man just laughed

    when they appraised its value

    in dollars and cents.


    Then he forgot and
    sat on the chair, which ruined
    its rich patina.

     


    And on that sad day

    the old tattered chair became

    Grandpa's life story.


    And on that sad day

    Grandpa's posterior was

    proved superior.


    The disappointment
    over what cannot be won
    questions victory.


    Hmm ... Perhaps.  On the other hand ...

    His disappointment
    over what could not be won,
    did question the game.

     

    (btw, nice one, moat!)


    Then again ...

    That which can't be won

    is only disappointing

    if never questioned.


    Ha!  Thanks barefooted!


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