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

    Friday afternoon Runs Away with the Haikulodeon

     

     
    Here's this week's heap of haikus:
     
     
     
    Sitting quietly,
    pondering vicissitudes,
    sure works up a thirst!
     

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    Financial Melt-down?
    Colder times? Frozen Assets?
    It's time to "VOTE SNOW!"
     
     
     

    (Stiffy the SnowSpondy approved this message.  To learn more:
     
     
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    tanka haiku: She wore pink spandex
    on her summer vacation,
    which caused a riot.
     
    Cops came. She was arrested,
    and did a stretch in prison.
     
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    At once, tempers flared!
    punches thrown, faces bruised, then ...
    cooler heads prevailed.
     

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    A wise man sees what
    is truly needed, not just
    what is desired.
     

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    Sometimes all it takes
    to solve things is, ask for help.
    Open Sesame.
     

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    Blistering retorts,
    blossom on his blog-site like
    roses in manure.
     

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    tanka haiku: Mind's distracted, thoughts
    retracted, speech redacted,
    what left ... subtracted.
     
    Wandering in mental haze
    is, happily, just a phase.
     

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    haiku: Youth is insistent,
    Old age may negotiate,
    Love grants both wishes.
     

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    tanka haiku: Deformed by disease,
    he is perplexed by folks with
    tattoos and piercings.
     
    They pay for 'mutilation',
    he'd pay much more not to be.
     

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    A bee that lands on
    a giant sunflower, will
    seldom seek a rose.
     

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    tanka haiku: You have long endured
    both hardships and heartbreaks and
    yet, you wish for more.
     
    For you think that happiness
    is paid for by misery.
     

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    tanka haiku: Lazy Sunday morn,
    where have you gone? My sister
    has come to 'help clean.'
     
    My apartment is transformed
    by my sister's elbow grease!
     

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    You are determined,
    you, yellow dandelions ... 
    pushing through sidewalks.
     

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    An old man's lament-ku:
     
    A willowy blonde,
    winks at me on the bus, then ...
    offers me her seat.
     

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    The shade of an elm,
    passes through my small garden,
    as dusk approaches.
     
     
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    Embued with romance,
    and lightly pastel of hue;
    delicate roses.
     
     
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    Waiting for my ride,
    whistling tunes from my youth,
    old shadows re-form.
     
     
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    Comments

    A bee that lands on
    a giant sunflower, will
    seldom seek a rose.

    (photo from an old garden of mine)


    Beautiful, flowerchild. 

     

    On a Sunday morn,
    it's always nice to see that 
    you've left a comment.

     

     

     

     


    I have never tried a tanka haiku before but here goes:

    I am a planet.

    Water fills the low places.

    Wind carves the mountains.

     

    So the Earth is my sister;

    Not an identical twin.


    Wow.  I don't know what you call it technically, but I call it beautiful.


    Thank you. 



    You got it technically perfect ... and I agree with Ramona, it's beautiful. Write more.