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

    A Fixer-Upper Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

     

     

     


    Here's this week's heap of haikus:

     

     

     

     

    Harmonica bench ...
    on a harmonious beach
    blues, powered by wind.

     

    (Photo courtesy of Kristina Rebelo)

     

     

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    At the timberline,
    the earth fell away and the
    sky overwhelmed me.

    a desperate tree
    tried to hold back the clouds, but
    a stormy night prevailed.

     

    (Photo courtesy of Kristina Rebelo)

     

     

     


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    Know this, my sweet child,
    precious are the memories,
    that some day you’ll have.

     

     

     

     

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    Dreading those three days ...
    Kind of how Satan feels while
    waiting for Easter.

     


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    You know t'ain't right to
    treat me like you do ... It's a
    lowdown cryin' shame.

     

     


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    The dark before dawn;
    lonely hearts beat quicker in
    anticipation.

     

     

     

     
     

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    The one thing we do
    that's as powerful as Love
    is ... that we Forgive.

     

     

     

     
     
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    Ah, consistency ...
    It's not just over-rated,
    it's the same old stuff.

     

     

     

     

     
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     To illuminate
    is better than to merely shine.
    Teach thinking, not thoughts.

    (St. Thomas Aquinas ... more or less.)
     

     

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    double haiku:

    Ah, the Brooklyn Bridge.
    This iconic span defines
    grace and elegance.

    Like giant harps that
    span the river Jordan, the
    bridge's cables loom.

     

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    Faded love letters,
    dried flowers pressed in a book ...
    Evidence l'amour.

     

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    When I'm all alone
    in my heart and in my mind,
    you reverberate.

     

     

     

     

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    Please stop nudging me.
    I'll get up in a minute.
    Hit the snooze alarm.

     

     

     

     

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    Doors hold no glory
    for people with tall hats, nor
    a word for the wide.

     

     

     

     

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    A portrait of me;
    my features lovingly sketched,
    concealing my fears.


    ( Sketch of me from around 1969  -  Artist: Diana Moses Botkin )


     

     

     

     

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    A careful dipping
    of the brush, will ensure a
    steady flow of ink.

     

     

     

     

     

     

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    Not ev'ry almond
    will taste of perfection, but
    all hold the promise.
     
     
     
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    the-world-goes-round-ku:

     

    What lies beyond the
    blue horizon? Isn't it
    more blue horizon?

     

     

     

     

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    Yesterday retreats
    to the caves of memory.
    Sunshine, cleanses souls.
     
     

     

     


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    The rain had ended.
    Central Park looked lush and green
    and eager with Life.
     

     

     

     

     
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    In Autumn's dotage,
    death's a gentler tiger,
    greeted with a grin.

     

     

     

     

     

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    A Veteran in
    a new field finds a better
    use for Death's scythe.

    Winslow Homer - The Veteran in a New Field - 1865

     


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    Before the beguine's
    begun to beguile, betray
    that beignet, Buddy.

     

     

     

     

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    I do much wonder ...
    I also do much yearn and
    dream of tomorrow.
     

     

     
     
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    Dear, Brigitte Bardot ...
    You inspired rhapsodies,
    where has our youth gone?
     

     

     


     
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     Driving blue highways,
    seeking out less traveled realms,
    small town life endures.
     
     

     

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    You do the haiku ... Write your response in the comments section


    (Buster Keaton in "The General" - 1927)

     

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     He strolled along the
    back roads, with his mandolin,
    singin' for supper.

     

     

     

     

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    She smiled at me and
    for one brief moment we both
    felt the world was safe.
     
     

     

     


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    She used her giggle
    to attract young men, and her
    savvy to keep them.
     
     

     

     


     
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    His corduroy pants,
    'swished' as he walked up Broadway.
    Which was ... misleading..

     

     

     


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    Talking out loud while
    watching 'La Boheme' is rude.
    "Sotto voce, jerk!"

     

     

     

     
     
     
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    He yawns, then stretches ...
    Wonders why it’s so quiet …
    (Awake at sunrise.)

     

     

     


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    We shall persevere
    and rise again tomorrow
    to tend our gardens.
     
     
     
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    Repudiate all
    reasons that keep us fighting.
    Let us heal our hearts.
     

     


     
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    tanka haiku:

     

    There's no growth from pain.
    Growth comes from a willingness
    to endure the pain

    as the cost of each lesson.
    Otherwise, it's just suffering.

     
     
     
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     I walked through a field
    to get to the main road, and
    lost all track of time.
     
     
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     double haiku:
     
    I'll try to explain;
    I'm not afraid, my mind turns
    strangers into friends.

    By that, I mean my
    mind sorts through what's new to find
    what is familiar.
     
     
     
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    Triple haiku:

    Outta Coffee ... D'OH!
    Scrounging through kitchen drawers.
    Looking for tea bags.

    But tea is a sad
    substitute for my Java ...
    I crave Maxwell House!

    And so, resigned, I
    put on pants ... and socks ... and shoes
    and walk to Starbucks.


     

     

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    Texting' at Starbucks;
    The Algonquin Roundtable
    For witless slackers.

     

     

     

     

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     A chill in the air.
    I go back in my house to
    look for my jacket.

     

     

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    double NYC-ku:

     

    Old woman shuffles
    Guy with beard argues on phone
    Youngster bounces ball

    Small bird pecks and hops
    Delivery boy parks his bike
    This sidewalk sees all.

     

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    Pretty girls pose while
    waiting for the crosstown bus
    on Avenue A


    (Photo taken by me one night after work, while waiting for my Access-a-Ride vehicle.)

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    double haiku:

    While they were still young,
    the world seemed full of promise,
    then ... we went to war.

    Soon, the fighting would
    be shaking optimism
    out of people's hearts.


    (My parents in early 1942, a few months after they married.)

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    In 1915,
    A Bungalow in Quogue seemed
    an idyllic wish.

     

    (A Bungalow in Quogue - A song from the Jerome Kern musical, Very Good, Eddie - Broadway premiere, 1915.  Cylinder recording made in 1918 )  (Browse the recently digitized Cylinder recording archives ... )  Read an article about it here.

     

     

     

     

     

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    Without the others,
    Ringo now felt a bit odd,
    when crossing the street.

     

     

    ****

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Comments

    Uh-Oh ... Competition!   How did he get a book deal?!  (Sigh) 
     


    Poser Zen biker

    Living in Montana - what's

    one haiku clapping?

     

    Synchronicity -

    I hate it when you drink my

    last beer at closing.

     

    Spondy see, Spondy

    do - Buddhist haiku challenge?

    Smith's got his own town.


    I feel like a seed.

    Floating, drifting, drying up.

    It must be autumn.

    Then I find winter.

    Chilled, yet hydrated I grow.

    A secretive sprout.

    What's this? Is it spring?

    Allow me to lose myself.

    There's just so much dirt.

    I gave it my all.

    Dying, drooping, summer heat ...

    'til they start again.



    Lovely, Missy!!

    I feel like a seed;
    purposefully planted and
    lying in my bed.

    I doubt, that a sprout,
    ever made it through a drought,
    without any gout.


     

     

     

     

    Really better than ketchup commercials, hahahahahah


    Some people live in
    anticipation, others
    are pro cipation.
     


    I have never heard

    It just aint right until now

    It just wasn't right

    Low down cryin' shame

    It surely was never right

    What it is you did!

    hahhahahahahah

    This is delightful

    The dark is always fore dawn

    ANTICIPATION

     

     

    THESE ARE THE GOOD OLE DAYS

    Really better than ketchup commercials, hahahahahah