The Bishop and the Butterfly: Murder, Politics, and the End of the Jazz Age
    MrSmith1's picture

    Another Friendly Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon.

     

     

     


    Here's this week's heap of haikus:



    On my block, cars do
    their alternate do-si-do
    for the street sweep


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    I took a taxi
    which took forever and all
    my folding money.

    ---

    Some flowering quince
    brighten up my room, while they
    taunt my allergies.

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    An old jelly bean
    found in my jacket pocket
    still tastes pretty good.
     

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    Mournful elegies
    echoed through the cathedral.
    Loved ones laid to rest.

    ---
     
     
    Eliminate stress,
    by breathing deeply. Then, you
    focus on ... (nothing).

     
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    In a wooden shack,
    on the outskirts of town, lives
    his late uncle's wife.
     

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    Will you dance with me?
    Come, Let's shake the rafters with
    our mutual joy.
     

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    In a hiding place,
    behind some old wainscoting,
    dusty artifacts.


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    A sincere heart is,
    more likely to change the world,
    than well reasoned thoughts.

     
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    She seldom complained,
    was quick with a comeback, so ...
    was often ignored.


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    He was confident,
    he'd done the assignment, but ...
    Wrong chapters were read.


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    His girlfriend's bedroom,
    seemed like such a prissy place,
    dainty and perfumed.


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    tanka haiku:

    The rheumy's office
    was quite small and cramped and yet
    within, whole new worlds.

       Many unfamiliar realms
       were first revealed to me there.


    ---

     
    A wind-swept plateau,
    where the sky looms large, as in
    a John Ford western.


    ---

     
    I love you so much,
    but can't claim I'll ever know,
    all you mean to me.

    ---

     
    tanka haiku:  

    When I am dreaming,
    I somersault on the beach,
    and dash through the surf.

       We laugh, then stroll hand in hand,
        two soul-mates who have found peace.

    ---


     
    A toasted muffin,
    bacon, juice and cantaloupe,
    Sweet Sunday breakfast.


    ---


    Rhythmic melodies
    drift from grandmother's bedroom:
    Old 78's.
     
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    Kids were not allowed
    in grandfather's library,
    but cats wandered in.
     

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    A convent garden,
    a devout mantis prays for
    Jack-in-the-pulpit.
     

    ---


    There was a large crowd,
    lined up 'round Tompkins Square Park,
    Bread line? Movie Shoot.

    ---

     
    Lazy sunlight drifts,
    through the parted lace curtains,
    of the drawing room.
     
    ---

    In a quiet room.
    a book lies open on a
    mahogany desk.
     

    ---


    Grand-dad used to say,
    "If you live, your time will come",
    Grandma's never did.


    ---

     
     I don't know her name,
    I'll never see her again,
    Her essence haunts me.
     


    ---


    Torn between lovers,
    he was not sure what to do,
    then, he beheld her..."

     

     

    ---

     

     
    Scars are reminders,
    That Life can be risky, but
    we can, and will, heal.


    ---

     
    Fog floats on the fields,
    dew forms on the split rail fence
    Rain in the forecast.
     


    ---
     

    When you're feeling lost,
    be brave and don't hesitate,
    in asking for help.

    ---

     
    How do you handle,
    all the pain and suffering?
    Focus on others.

    ---

    Ask for help, focus
    on others, Ev'ryone hurts,
    ev'ryone can help.
     


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    tanka haiku:

    I confess; I wore
    paisley ascots, bell-bottoms
    and nehru jackets.

      But it was the Sixties, man.
      We were all 'fashion forward.'

    ---


     
    The billowing sails,
    The churning, white-capped waters,
    grey skies at ebb tide.


    ---


     

    When painting 'still lifes',
    try not to put your elbow,
    in the water cup.
     


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    While crouched underneath,
    her conestoga wagon,
    Kate did needlework.
     

    ---


    Sprawled on an ice floe,
    you tend to forget that you're
    heading for the falls.
     

     

    ---

     


    Blandly defiant,
    dead cars give no excuses,
    they simply won't go.
     

    ---

     

    Some stars in the sky,
    stopped shining eons ago.
    (We've yet to notice.)
     

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    In an ev'ning's field,
    a scurrying mouse ignores
    danger in the trees.
     

    ---


    young boys quickly learn
    the alcohol content of

    vanilla extract.
     

     

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    A remote forest,
    where towering trees shelter,
    delicate flowers.
     

     

    ---

     

     

    Internet access,
    Isn't there?! It isn't fair!
    Net neutrality!

     

     

    ---

     

    Children whispering,
    conspiratorial glee ...
    Parents ... be on guard.

     

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    Breaking News ...  My haiku submission has been selected as a finalist for the New York Times Haiku Challenge. Should know in a couple of days if it made the final cut.  

    Woo-Hoo!
     

    Here's my submission:


    A garden pathway
    lined with purple violets
    absorbs all sadness.

     

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    Comments

    Congratulations, Mr. Smith!  Fingers crossed.  I love all your haikus.  I don't know how you could choose only one to submit.  Great job again this week.

     

    This one should be a poster:

    Grand-dad used to say,
    "If you live, your time will come",
    Grandma's never did.


    The lesson again:

    As if this strange thing was learned

    by repetition.

     

    The hard things are soft.

    Some things outside heard sharply:

    A quiet appeal.

     

    The self as a thing.

    We don't know about that life.

    We talk about it.


    I work tomorrow.

    Stealing time from a question;

    Running from something.

     


    All great, moat!

     

    I take a moment
    to mourn the passage of time.
    I work tomorrow.

     

    ---

     

    Running from something
    o'er which I have no control
    keeps me on my toes.

     

    ---

     

     

     


    She walked on her toes.

    Cadence to an odd new song;

    Impossible dance.


     

    An impossible dance ...

    prance about on tippy-toes ...

    Ballet just a ruse?

     

    ---

     

    Using auto-tune

    mixed with a hip-hop cadence?

    It will curl your toes.

     

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