MrSmith1's picture

    A Rainbow-Filled Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

     


     

    Here's this week's heap of haikus:

     

    tanka haiku:

    Crowded Conveyance;
    Two women, a dog, a bike,
    a small child and me.

       Crammed in an elevator
       Waiting for the thing to go.

     


    ---

     


    In the small pocket
    of my denim jeans is a
    button from your coat.

     

     

    ---


     

     

    Coca cola signs
    seemed to be ev'rywhere once,
    Thirst for nostalgia.

     

     

    ...

     

     


    In a fitful sleep,
    memories long forgotten,
    rise to consciousness.

     

     


    ---

     

     


    Flying through the air,
    should be avoided by both,
    dentures and toupees.

     

     

     

    ---

     

     

    tanka haiku:

    News headline: Science
    proves that you can live forever!
    Film at eleven.

       (My first thought, of course, was that
       Social Security's f*cked!)


     

    ---

     

    I'm chained to a desk
    staring at computer screens
    where did my life go?

     


    ---

     


    I know that I have
    'Scalia Schadenfreude';
    his rage makes me smile.


     

    ---

     

     


    If you force yourself
    to go outside, something great
    will always happen ...

    So says Mary, age 93 - (More or Less)

     

    ---

     

     

     

    The long arc of the
    moral universe always
    bends towards true justice.

    A Martin Luther King, Jr. quote (more or less)


    ---

     


    A quartet of haikus:

     

    After all these years,
    I still haunt the lost and found,
    looking for my life.

    I still ride the train,
    in hope the next station will
    be where I get off.

    I cross bridges knowing
    I can not wash away all
    the sins of my life.

    I am stuck in time
    living out a meager life
    extracting fool's gold.

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

    I may still be lost,
    but I am not alone and
    that is a comfort.

     

     

    ---

     

     

    We must leave the day ...
    We must rest to prepare for
    the struggles to come.

     


    ---
     

     

     

    I hear distant trains
    and think of riding boxcars ...
    whistles on the wind.

     

     

     


    ---

     

     

    double haiku:

     

    It's three fifteen, and
    wakened from a sad dream, I
    try to clear my head.

    Thoughts of you linger
    and entwine with my day's chores.
    You still haunt my heart.

     
    ---

     


    Under rainbow flags
    Misters and Sisters confirm
    their loves at long last.

     


    ---

     

     


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

     

     


    ---

     

     


    They sway with the breeze,
    which is why her little dog,
    barks at sunflowers.

     


    ---

     

     


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

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

     

    ---

     

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

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

     
    ---

     


    Sunshine and whiskey
    are a lot like Love; they all
    can make you go blind.

     


    ---

     

     


    I feel so alone.
    I watch the tide come in and
    think of yesterday.

     

     

     

    ---


     

     

    Bells in the distance ...
    Yipee!  It's the ice cream man!
    Wanna creamsicle?

     

     

    ---

     

     


    A couple cuddles
    outside of the Guggenheim,
    then hails a taxi.

     


    ---

     

     

    Summer afternoons,
    lazy sunshine, as I stroll.
    Dirt road daydreaming.

     

     
    ---

     

     


    Colored beach balls float
    on incoming waves. Children
    squeal and splash about.

     

     

    ---

     

     

    With a painter's eyes,
    and a poet's soul, he found
    beauty ev'rywhere.
     

     

     

    ---

     

     


    They were on a lark,
    when they met an old school mate
    living on the street.

     

     
     
    ---

     

     

    The quick red fox jumped
    o'er lazy typewriters, owned
    by sleeping brown dogs.

     

     


    ---

     

     


    Plaid lumberjack shirt
    o'er black tights and blue tattoos;
    hot babe on 4th St.

     

     

    ---

     

     

    I stand in a field,
    listening to the night's sounds ...
    strangely comforted.

     

     

    ---

     
     

    A whisper, a glance ...
    her touch lasts but a moment,
    yet his core's shaken.


     

    ---

     


    Memories still pop
    into my addled brain, to
    amuse my dull thoughts.

     


    ---

     

     

    tanka haiku:

    Graceful extensions,
    limber elevations, and
    lithe, flowing movements.

       Beauty and Ballet combined
       will feed hung’ry hope-starved souls.

     

     

    ---

     

     

    As the swallows swoop,
    The roses dance in the breeze;
    the world in motion.


    Utagawa Hiroshige (Japanese, 1797–1858) |
    Swallows and Kingfisher with Rose Mallows | ca. 1838

     

     

     

     

    ---

     

     

     

    How the sky has cleared
    after such a drenching rain.
    The sun reassures.

     

    (Photo courtesy of my friend and neighbor, David Thompson,  who took this looking out his window yesterday.)

    ****

     

     

     

    Comments

    That's all right

    Give me back my button

    My life just went down the tank

    It could have been MUCH

    (better if I had had that damn button)

    I do not really

    know about the lost and found

    Salvation Army

    (is for me)

    hahahahaha

    I cannot count to well today

    WELL DONE MR. SMITH!

     


    Thanks, DD!! 

     

    I forgot to add this one to the original posting ...

     

     

    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.

     

     

     ---

     

     


    Here!

     

    Plastic & fabric buttons showing holes & shank.jpg
    "Plastic & fabric buttons showing holes & shank" by Richard Wheeler (Zephyris) 2007. ==Licensing==. Original uploader was Tyranny Sue at en.wikipedia - Transferred from en.wikipedia; transferred to Commons by User:Balajijagadesh using CommonsHelper. (Original text : File:Buttons 2.jpg). Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

     

     


    Ha!  Thanks, trking!   I don't know why, but that little haiku about the button is one of my new favorites.  It is so simple and unadorned, it is not clever or witty nor has any rhyme to recommend it.  It is just a statement, and yet, I think it gets to the essence of something and creates a vivid image.   Sometimes I surprise myself with the haikus that pop into my head.  This was one that just sprang into my head on Thursday night.  Serendipity.

     


     


    It was a rainbow filled night too at the Whitehouse.  (no audio)


    I laugh to think of Nixon inviting Anita Bryant to the White House and then the grounds-keeper turning on this light show. 
     



    San Francisco City Hall tonight.

     

    largest

     


    Last weekend San Fransico Court House put on this light show for it's 100 anniversary. 

     

    for I'm feeling parched

    after a labor of hunger

    hacking and hewing


    cannot convince me

    to go outside, something great

    and fearsome awaits


    barks at sunflowers,

    argues with dandelions,

    such is sweet grandpa


    Excellent Trope!   I like this one about Grandpa the best!
     


    Thanks. I like it best, too. I can just see grandpa on all fours arguing with the dandelions. :)


    With tiny fingers,

    extreme focus, steady nerves,

    he buttoned a fly.


    HA!   Good one, Oxy!!

    He buttoned a fly,
    which, he thought, more manly than
    zippering a moth.

     

     


    With tiny fingers,

    long lost memories scratching

    our itch to forget.


    Good one, Missy!

     

    Procreation blues:
    Long lost memories scratching
    our id's bids for kids.


     


    Our id's bids for kids

    like the sleds on which we slid

    tend to flip our lids.


    the memories slide

    like the sleds on which we slid

    faster and faster


    Nice, Trope!
     


    HA!  You would pick that line ... LOL   Well done, Missy!

    Stored in the garage,
    like the sleds on which we slid,
    broken toys we hid.

     


    With tiny fingers,

    the young child touches the bark

    of the ancient tree


    Nice.

    With tiny fingers,
    reaching for ten tiny toes,
    she learned her 'piggies.'


    repeating signal,
    like a fog horn heard at sea,
    tells me where I am.

    Circle of bright fire
    that cannot be held with hands
    looks for knowing eyes.


    Good, moat!!

    Like a fog horn's drone,
    my GPS annoys while
    giving directions

     

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