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

    A Friday Afternoon Pledge Break at the Haikulodeon ...

     

     



    Here's this week's heap of haikus:




    Through each tortured night,
    he tossed and turned in bed, then
    dreamt of his ex-wives.


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    The train ‘clacks’ along.
    I stare out the window as
    lush meadows pass by.


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    Tending your garden,
    know that zinnias will thrive
    where fuschias wither.


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    She’s tilting forward ...
    (‘cuz she’s wearing 6 inch heels.)
    Precarious Chic.

     


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    Turn-of-the-century-ku:

    Crank the Victrola,
    clear away the rugs and give
    the maid the night off!

     


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    An eager puppy,
    wags his tail, strains at his leash,
    makes many new friends!

     

     

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    Juneteenth; In those days,
    news was slow to arrive. This
    news should have had wings.

     


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    There is always hope;
    even admitting the worst,
    you could still be wrong.

     


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    Mother's feeling Blue.
    Father's feeling Violet ...
    (Behind the woodshed.)

     


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    Memorized poems
    hide inside our heads and wait ...
    to re-inspire.


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    She wore gingham and
    polka dot dresses, which made
    her seem cartoon-ish.


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    Eating blackberries
    on a Summer’s afternoon
    makes me feel care-free.
     


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    Here is a lesson
    to be learned and not forgot;
    While music plays, dance.

     


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    tanka haiku: With a glass of milk,
    juice and toast, cereal makes
    a balanced breakfast.

    Good to know if you have got
    Vertigo and crave corn flakes.

     



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    Her world’s no larger
    than the width of her bed and
    the depth of her dreams.
     

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    Waiting by the door,
    a shy young girl fidgets with
    a yellow wrist-band.
     

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    Japanese maples
    rustle noiselessly outside
    while her mother sleeps.

     



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    Our hearts are widest
    when we put aside our thoughts
    and let ourselves feel.

     


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    Sometimes in my dreams,
    I meet you in Times Square and
    we are “us” again.

     



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    tanka haiku:

    Summer days of youth,
    running through fields, resting ‘neath
    the shade of an oak.

    Then riding bikes to the park,
    and playing 'ball 'til supper.

     


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    In you, I see me.
    Our thoughts are clearly in sync.
    And that makes me grin.

     

     


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    My heart belongs to
    you, my sweet, and no-one else.
    Hand me the remote.

     

     


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    The pre-war building
    stood in stark contrast to the
    post-war skyscrapers.

     


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    Those being drenched may
    not always feel as if they
    are blessed by the storm.

     


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    A wastebasket filled
    with crumpled papers marks a
    good writer's progress.

     

     
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    In musty attics,
    boxes of old photographs
    are home to our ghosts.

     


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

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    I appreciate
    the glorious feel of this
    late Spring afternoon.

     


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    A couple cuddles
    outside of the Guggenheim,
    then hails a taxi.

     


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    Reading comic books
    and playing travel bingo
    got them to Grandma’s …

     

     

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    Sitting quietly,
    pondering vissicitudes,
    sure works up a thirst!
     

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    tanka haiku:

    Call me crazy, but
    I shouldn’t feel so lost and
    all alone in Life.

    I know.  I’m not alone … nor
    lost, but tell my feelings that.


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    1950′s-ku:

    Being grown-up meant
    a clean, folded handkerchief
    in your breast pocket.


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    My Little League team
    was sponsored by a pie shop,
    which loved the rhubarbs.


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    She laughed wickedly.
    Such a chill went up his spine,
    that he sneezed ice cubes.



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    On a shady lane,
    there lived a lonely girl that
    dreamed of love fulfilled.

     

     


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    A wellspring of joy,
    lies within each of our hearts,
    waiting to be tapped.
     

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    Like sails on schooners,
    the bed sheets billowed, while pinned
    to mom’s old clothesline.

     

     


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     If you have a job
    with no time parameters,
    you must be shiftless.
     

     



     

     


    Half opened window …
    A world on each side … Do you
    look in or stare out?

     

     


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    Dee’s calico cat
    has all sorts of adventures
    while Dee is at work.

     

     

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    When you search for God,
    don’t forget to close your eyes,
    He hides in our hearts.

     



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    ***


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    Bloggers like you and the MrSmith Charitable Trust. )   ;-)

     

    Comments

    All righty then, I will have go....

    Now the longest day

    And the nights are short thank God

    Ex-wives come at night

    hahahahaha

     

    Now that is not bad

    It isn't that bad some nights

    Other nights; it's bad

    hahahahahah

     

    Tilling gardens might...

    I might end up in some place

    I just should not till

    hahahahah

     

    Oh the longest day

    As I noted before this

    You don't live longer

     

    IT JUST SEEMS LONGER

     

    the end

     

    hahahah


    (where are those neat pix anyway?)

     

     


    True, the longest day

    has the shortest night ... and short

    nights soon make ex-wives.

     

    ***

     


    Sorry I'm late; tech probs.

    I listened to this song and it brought back that RCMP duo of the thirties. hahahaha

    What is it? Jenette McDonald and....?

    Fun melody for sure.

    Thank you


    It was my birthday on the longest day of the year.  I guess that is what makes me so optimistic with all that sun shine. 


    Happy belated birthday, trkingmomoe!

     

    Optimism is

    one's willingness to believe

    in a happy end.  

     

    ;-)

     


    Thank you.