MrSmith1's picture

    A Dog Day Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon


    Here's this week's heap of haikus:



    To whine is but to
    rant with specificity.
    Silly lad, rant on.




    triple haiku:

    O'er the crest of the
    hill, beyond the turn in the
    road ... where hope resides.

    turn the corner, lift
    up the veil, enter darkened
    rooms, destiny waits.

    Do not be fearful.
    Trust that no harm will come, for
    you have much to do.











    I'm tired of the
    season.  I wish it would end.
    The Summer doldrums.









    tanka haiku:

    With fingers tappin'
    on the 88's,  'bones wail,
    lips blowin' on 'sticks'

    filling rainy nights with tears,
    There, there, lemme buya beer








    As her 'crush' approached,
    she giggled like a schoolgirl,
    her face turning red.








    He lay beside her,
    getting stains on his jeans from
    the freshly cut grass.










    Kicking off flip-flops,
    She ran down the beach and stepped
    on a jellyfish.








    Laurel and Hardy
    were pushed into anarchy
    by circumstances.

    Stan and Oliver
    were at odds with a complex
    and mechanized world.







    tanka haiku:

    Peter Stuyvesant
    plants a pear tree.  It flourished
    for two hundred years.

    Then, as so often happens,
    a horse and cart knocked it down.

    (The Northeast Corner of East 13th St. and 3rd Avenue in NYC.  The pear tree survived from 1647 to 1867...Pictured here in 1863.   I recall back in the late 1980's trying to sell apartments in the building on the Northeast corner of 13th St. and Third Avenue, which the developer named Pear Tree Place, as his tribute to the Pear tree that, according to legend, once flourished on the corner in front of his building. .)






    Offering a toast,
    stuttering, swallowing hard,
    she choked back the tears.








    As day turns to dusk,
    neatly anchored sloops slowly
    bob in the harbor.

    (Photo courtesy Kristina Rebelo)







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









    If you own a gun,
    you've agreed to a world where
    shooting's an option.









    Red-headed co-eds ...
    Ragtime on the radio ...
    Remnants of past lives.








    It's not a surprise
    Sesame Street is moving ...
    It's gentrification.







    Skirts dusted the ground,
    All the men wore bowler hats.
    Traffic?  Chaotic.


    (Colorized photo of New York from 1905)






    If there's any doubt
    That MadMen have no morals ...
    Look who smokes Pall Mall.







    Where better to go
    when you want a piece of pie ...
    then the automat?









    Ma, where's my pa? Gone
    to the White House, ha, ha, ha!
    (Turns out, she was right.)










    The wind fills our sails,
    we glide 'gainst a golden sky
    Sea salt in our hair.












    When it comes to a
    thermos nuclear war, it's
    bring your own lunch box.










    The most courageous
    words ever spoken, must be,
    'So ... let us go on.'










    Good to remember -
    Most great civilizations
    have risen from swamps.














     double haiku:

    The screen door slams shut.
    An angry young man 'walks' to
    his car and 'peels out.'

    A young girl watches
    from the window and prays that
    her sadness will mend.












    A leaf-less tree frames
    a lonely farm-house in the
    middle of nowhere.
















    Skies with quiet clouds,
    a boardwalk sparsely peopled,
    old folks lost in thought.














    Even though he'd won,
    his thoughts remained fixated,
    on what he had lost.













    at Laura's front door,
    young boys stammer, hesitate,
     ... and plead for a kiss.











    Simply looking back,
    Well, honestly, what's the point,
    If you can't re-write?











    Disguising some swans
    as prima ballerinas
    takes stepping on toes.









    He whispers her name,
    as he lies in bed at night,
    so his dreams find her.









    As the Summer wans
    the golden voice of autumn
    soon starts to whisper.








    He could not keep her
    back in the day,  now 'what ifs'
    pester him all night.










    Overgrown grass hides,
    a long neglected tombstone;
    a child forgotten.













    From a small garden
    an enormous sunflower
    reaches for the sky.











    Her slender fingers,
    caressed his unshaven face,
    He smiled. They made love.











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











    The fabric of Life;
    From order to chaos, we
    slowly unravel.











    After the rainstorm
    shimmering shafts of sunshine,
    broke through the dark clouds.










    Who have you steadied?
    Whose heart have you opened? Whose
    dreams have you unleashed?











    From a small garden
    an enormous sunflower
    reaches for the sky.

    (photo by me)

    Jeepers!!  Thanks Flowerchild!!

    Pecan Pie-Golden Smog

    There is no date for this.  I think it was a Lee Marvin Radio ad.  

    I stand corrected.  Lee Marvin had a show "M Squad" from 1957-60.  Pall Mall was the major advertiser of this show. He did the commercials during the show. 

    the freight trains had passed

    a cheap motel in Flagstaff​

    finally, we slept.


    Very evocative!   Nicely done, Oxy!


    The ice machine's broke!
    Damn cheap motel in Flagstaff​ ...
    I'm drinkin' warm beer.


    Thanks for keepin' on, Mr. Smith. Lovely work.


    A twelve year old Missy wrote this, and shortly thereafter gave it a tune. That's likely the only reason I remember it, since the paper it was written on is long since gone. The only person I've shared it with in my adult life is stillidealistic - because of her eldest granddaughter - and that was many years ago. It's nothing at all special, but I'd like to put it here, Mr. Smith, for you. Just because.

    When I was just a little girl,

    I'd lose myself in dreams -

    Of fairy tales and mystic kings,

    Of golden, flowing streams.

    I'd dream myself a princess,

    I'd make her beauty mine -

    With riches, furs and treasures,

    Never paled by time.

    Then when I was older,

    Reality came around-

    I lost my dreams and fairy tales,

    Put my feet back on the ground.

    With mystic kings forgotten,

    With riches never known -

    I felt so sad to see it end,

    All because I'd grown.

    Now I am a lady,

    With problems to set right -

    But I let myself drift back in time,

    When I'm alone at night.

    The fairy tales are real once more,

    My golden streams return -

    Again a child lost in dreams,

    Will I ever learn?

    Explain to me what is so wrong,

    To dream once in awhile -

    To wish for joy in wonderland,

    And leave there with a smile.

    Nothing at all special?!  Are you kidding me?  This is so completely wonderful, it gives me shivers of joy!   Thank you for sharing this with me.  It is. to me, very special indeed.

    Dog Daze x Two (an aerial meditation)

    Up all night with a

       Dog Day Afternoon rerun

    On the return flight.

    How did time slow down?

        43 years and counting

    Gay marriage with guns...

    What goes (went) around

        Comes (came) around yet again

    Love & death spiral

    Columbine / Stonewall

        Obergefell v Hodges,

    Sandy Hook / Pilchuck

    2nd Amendment and

        14th Amendment - a match

    made in heaven / hell

    Out of the closet:

        open carry and open lifestyle

    Pandora's kitchen

     There's a drone above

        taking snaps of my wedding,

    Profiling me and mine

    Either goes viral

        or blown to oblivion...

    Depends on your friends

    Sonny wanted love,

    Knocked at (off) the local bank,

    Came out Al Pacino

    ​Attica and Finch

    Chase Manhattan versus Crown Heights

    Power to the People?

    Thus Leon got his

    sex change; Sonny got 5 years

    and a book deal;

    Sal got eternity.

    So who says crime doesn't pay?

    Not the 1%.


    I like your poem, Peracles!  Thanks for sharing it!!



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