MrSmith1's picture

    A Fadin' Away Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon



    Here's this week's heap of haikus:


    I'm fading away,
    Slowly, inexorably ...
    I can't help but laugh.






    Is it just me or
    is eating wintergreen in
    the Summertime odd?





    How oddly human;
    hearing sounds and reading words
    are changing my mood.







    Happy Would-Have-Been 100th Birthday this week to Les Paul.

    Oh, how high the moon ...
    and oh how deep the ocean ...
    my heart loves you still.








    A swarm of bees flit
    about my head as I walk
    through my neighbor's yard.



    A tiny bird pecks
    at what it thinks is food, and
    man thought smoke-able.




    Purple swirls may make
    you dizzy, but old love songs
    always make you blue.







    Don't become smitten
    with young maids you have bitten;
    there's too much at stake.






    The ecdysiast
    that men find the teasiest,
    un-zips easiest.





    Thoughts, planted wisely,
    blossom in reluctant minds,
    when the time is right.







    The white-capped waves reached
    out with watery fingers
    to capsize the boat.







    The tears on apples
    come from being hurt right
    to the very core.




    Luscious red peppers
    tumble from the store's display
    right into my cart





    Grandma used to say,
    "a house with no back door
    has somethin' to hide."






     Where depressed gourmands,
    can go to end it all?  The
    Terminal Diner.





    Blistering come-backs
    raced through his head, but all he
    could say was, "Oh YEAH?!"





    Friday nights, a line
    forms at the lover's leap ... for
    the One O'clock Jump.






    Near some shallow shoals,
    sallow souls in hollow holes
    scream at scheming scum.






    The universe keeps
    winking at me ...  as if we
    share some cosmic joke.






    Living on the streets,
    he slipped into a dream world
    to escape his life.





    Pulsating rhythms,
    Echoing through Central Park,
    The joy of bongos.






    When it's dinner-time
    in the cannibal village,
    stupid shows up first.




    Soft hands on rough stone,
    grasping for crevices, will
    soon form calluses.






    "I 'felt' it was true" ...
    has been the rationale for
    most of our blunders.





    tanka haiku:


    The little boy eyes
    me warily.  I can see
    his wondering thoughts;
         "Why is that old man using
          two canes and wearing odd shoes?"


    I no longer think
    and no longer worry.  I'm
    conjuring rainbows.





    tanka haiku:

    We fight our whole lives
    to thrive in the world of our
    parents, only to

         discover that we're living
         in the world of our children.






    A nurse hovers o'er
    her unresponsive patient.
    She must let him go.




    tanka haiku:

    Curious ... Have you
    ever seen a mailman that
    likes to stamp his feet?

         Is he footing the bill, or
         just pushing the envelope?






    She ran down the street,
    with tears streaming down her face,
    dogs nipping her heels.




    Enjoying the shade,
    of a leafy maple tree;
    ladybugs and me.





    Saunter through the woods
    leaving all your cares behind
    consumed by nature.






    After the rainstorm,
    the park was so lush and green,
    he got his youth back.







    Seldom will you see
    a second thought that dances
    in the morning breeze.





    Sometimes an echo
    from a life you left behind,
    will catch up to you.







    Moon behind the clouds,
    dew forms on the meadow grass,
    a whispered, "Goodnight!"





    Go out in the world
    and fuck it up beautif'lly ...
    Go make me nervous.

    - Inspired by John Waters' Commencement Address to 2015 Graduates of the Rhode Island School of Design.




    Bonus Poem:

    Ev'ry ripple is profound,
    changing oceans, making sound,
    Wonder not why you're extant ...
    breathing out, you've saved a plant.

    ( M.T.S. 06-06-2015 )




    One more thing ... I wanted to post this video too.  Felicia is a talented musician from Seattle ... and a fellow Spondy.  


    Thanks, Smith. Wonderful post.

    In honor of John Waters:


    dark country western,

    ole Randy Howard got shot

    but not for singing

    Excellent, Oxy!


    Grand Ole Opry Star
    Jim Ed Brown has also died.
    He sang about it.

    This was my favorite.  These reminds me of a summer that I stayed with  my Aunts for a couple of weeks.

    The Old Lamp Lighter.



    Here is the other hit song from that year,1961. I remembered them on American Bandstand. 

    The Scarlett Ribbon.


    Sometimes an echo
    from a life you left behind,
    will catch up to you.

    So true, for better or worse. This is the kind of knowledge that comes with time spent on this planet that the youngsters don't get, really no fault of their own.

    Thanks, Elusive!  Now, I know you write poetry, so you should know that the game we play here in the comments section of the Haikulodeon is to write a haiku using one line from one of the previous posted haikus and then another person writes a haiku based on that, etc.   The fun is in seeing how many variations we can come up with and what different directions a few changes in words can take us.  

    You can do either the regular haiku form of 5-7-5 syllables or the tanka, which is 5-7-5-7-7

    This is your official invitation to play.  

    Your history a wake

    left behind on life's river

    ripple back to you

    This is cool, it's like

    late-night improv jazz session

    in a smoke-filled bar

    Excellent, Trope!


    In a smoke-filled bar
    A winded woodwind player
    got to the coda.






    lightening himself

    coughs and gasps a little bit

    addict for the smoke

    Okay. remember the game is to use one line from the previous haiku.  Doesn't matter which one. 

    Her first porn flick; she
    coughs and gasps a little bit
    before passing out.



    Okay. Got it.


    After the concert

    A winded woodwind player

    ponders the walk home

    You got it!   Excellent!!

    Having said his piece,
    he waits for her reply, and
    ponders the walk home.



    Chills run down her spine

    as she ponders the walk home,

    knowing he'll be there.

    Knowing he'll be there

    waiting as he always does

    in that chair he made

    Taking a shower
    at the Bates Motel, more than
    chills run down her spine. 

    Taking a shower

    he panics his last haiku

    syllable count wrong

    Thoughts, planted wisely,
    blossom in reluctant minds,
    when the time is right.


    How oddly human;
    hearing sounds and reading words
    are changing my mood.


    I would add these as well.

    Work in the garden

    of another's mind, the seasons

    will still be master


    No matter what heights
    your Melody soars, Rhythm
    Will still be master.

    Work in the garden

    of hopelessness, for you may

    yield a fertile mind.

    HA!  Good one, Missy!!


    An hour each day, on
    your knees, your face in the dirt,
    will humble your thoughts.




    Work in the garden,
    You'll find what matters most is
    work in the garden,




    But if you tell fibs,

    don't put your face in the dirt -

    your nose just might grow!

    HA!!  Good one!!


    If you serve food, don't
    put your face in the dirt, you'll
    muddy the waiter.



    the table all set

    in the muddy cold setting

    waiter sinks, can't move

    Waiter sinks, can't move.

    Patrons cry out in dismay,

    "Who will serve us now?"

    argument ensues

    who will rescue the waiter

    over cries for help

    In a bawdy boite,
    patrons cry out in dismay,
    "Put it all back on!"

    "Put it all back on!"

    the stage director bellows

    more tables appear

    Library book due

    must photo copy one

    section then return

    I've been avoiding
    Forty-second and Fifth Ave;
    Library book due.


    Library book on

    Forty-second and Fifth Ave

    Flutters in the wind

    The stone lions on
    Forty-second and Fifth Ave.
    guard chapter and verse.

    The stone lions on

    the grand porch of the grand home

    bored with the same view

    Reach into the dark,

    feel my eyelash brush your cheek,

    let me comfort you.

    Listen for my whispered song ...

    it will carry you to me.

    Oh Missy!!  This is wonderful!!   


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