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    A Fastidious Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon



    Here's this week's heap of haikus:




    The gentlest breeze
    slides sweetly past my face as
    I hail her a cab.









    Littered with teardrops,
    on a Sunday morning in
    my garden of hope.



    (Photo courtesy of Kristina Rebelo)








    tanka haiku:


    From her widow's walk,
    she gazed at the horizon,
    hoping to catch sight

    of sails from her husband's ship
    returning from its voyage.









    Eating blackberries
    on a Summer’s afternoon ...
    I'm without a care.















    Never a doubt 'bout
    that Okie from Muskogee ...
    Merle was a badass.


    (Merle Haggard RIP)




    It seems somehow weird;
    when you let things go to pot,
    You don't cut the grass.









    He sits quietly
    with a small flag in his hands
    haunted by landmines.





    Another Agnes ...
    my grandma, born April 4th
    Eighteen Ninety-one.



    (Agnes Marion Mulry Tracy Tharp - April 4, 1891-1951)





    I'm a seed-planter,
    sowing thoughts to imagine
    I tend each garden.







    triple haiku:


    I will not admit
    I ever held you, but now
    I'm letting you go.

    Feeling you against
    me, got me through the night. but
    now the morning's come.

    We may never meet
    in the flurry of the years,
    but you'll stay with me.







    Though old of age, he
    felt he still had tales to tell,
    and trails to wander.






    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.








    Triple haiku:


    She was diagnosed,
    and medicated, but now
    felt isolated.

    Friends now thought her strange ,
    fam'ly felt she was deranged,
    but ... she had not changed.

    Illness does not mean
    you're no longer who you've been,
    you're walking new paths.






    Double haiku:


    Two ballet dancers
    arch their backs and reach their arms
    up to the heavens.

    A plea to God to
    understand the suffering
    of mortal beings.





    Eschewing sunsets,
    he loved the subtler hues
    of mid-afternoon.








    double haiku:

    Jiggling joggers
    waiting for the light to change
    bouncing up and down
    When the light turns green,
    a pony-tailed tsunami
    sweeps across the street.








    Whatever ends will
    begin again; our journey
    is but a circle.








    Mom’s gold charm bracelet,
    clanged against the banister,
    as she climbed the stairs.







    White sails seem to float
    upon the lazy ripples
    as the river flows.


    "Regattas at Argenteuil" by Claude Monet :





    tanka haiku:


    The curve of her waist,
    the creases of her smile, the
    wisdom in her thoughts.

    She slowly consumed all his
    waking moments … then, his dreams.







    The rain has ended.
    Central Park looks lush and green
    and eager with Life.









    Leaves swirled around her,
    tumbling in her wake like
    fawning sycophants.






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







    Orchid on her wrist,
    she twirls in her crinoline,
    the 'belle of the ball.'






    Rhapsodic Romance;
    our souls dance joyfully to
    our heart's cantatas.






    When  two hearts in love
    decide to pledge their troth, all
    heaven's doors open.






    tanka haiku:


    Leafy canopies
    Riding up Riverside Drive
    Sunset through the trees.

       The world looks like a painting,
       without either cares or fears.






    In days of Deco,
    even a hood ornament   
    aspired to Art.

    ( Amilcar Pegasus Hood Ornament 1926 )





    Throughout history,
    all success has stood on the,
    shoulders of failure.







    It doesn't seem fair
    that an impotent heir means
    the end of the line.






    April is so cruel.

    I awoke at three degrees

    So spring lost its way


    Smith is the headline

    Dagblog's best advertisement

    Smith is the bestest!


    How do you ever​

    How can you live this fact down?

    That you are the best?



    People like you very much

    Just so very much

    This makes me feel good

    This makes me very happy

    So very happy


    Just Tiny Dancers




    This makes me happy ... and sad. Thank you for the kind words, DD.  You're right, we all do need forgiveness and praise.   Forgiveness is easy, receiving praise is hard.  Shouldn't that be the other way around?  HA!  No, I guess they should both be easy and in a perfect world, they would be.  But we're here ... It's Sunday and all's quiet at the Haikulodeon.  Thank you for all the support.

    Great group, Smith. My favorite is the quartet.


    Sunday on the farm

    yesterday we mowed the fields,

    good choice, it's raining now


    Those sun blasts last week---

    woodpeckers lost g p s,

    flew at doors, windows


    Coyotes howling,

    should I go talk it over?

    sometimes, get notions

    Wonderful, Oxy.   And don't think for a minute that you could run that Leadbelly / Goodnight Irene reference by me and me not notice.   LOL

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