MrSmith1's picture

    A Late Blooming Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon



    Here's this week's heap of haikus:


    Desire often hides
    behind the structures of our lives
    seeking permission.




    Sometimes I see things ...
    that no-one else seems to see ...
    and that worries me.




    When you look at Life
    from diff'rent angles, points of
    view turn upside down.



    Even the milder
    'mitigated disaster'
    makes a mess of things.



    My old neighborhood
    has now become gentrified.
    I left just in time.




    A Spring rain pelts me.
    I dash for shelter under
    a leafy oak tree.




    A starry night, wind
    rustles the dandelions.  
    We cautiously kiss.



    In bed, in pain, out
    of meds and luck. overwhelmed,
    under the weather.




    Do you whistle low,
    or sing along to iPods?
    Karaoke you.


    What's most confusing
    when you experience Time?
    That watched pots DO boil.


    The more I focus
    on subtle details, the more
    I'm drawn into Life.



    Peach oleanders
    overwhelm the small vase on
    my kitchen table.


    He was so immersed
    in his work, that he forgot
    about eating lunch.



    Beautiful and lithe,
    hot babes in tight t-shirts jog
    past me ... pushing prams.



    A burbling brook
    slices through a lazy field
    near a chestnut tree.




     Double Diner-ku:

    Eggs over easy
    bacon, toast and home fries; on
    some mis-matched china.

    Men in overalls
    listen to the farm report
    an' talk 'bout baseball.


    Echoes of sunrise,
    fade from the bluing sky; the
    moon's gone back to sleep.




    My life is a mess,
    but my imagination
    is impeccable.




    As the dawn breaks, a
    boat with peeling paint, drifts on
    a shimmering lake.




    Aggravating man,
    infuriating woman;
    Act Three, they're in love.





    Sucker punched by thugs,
    smooched by dames, I fire my gat;
    (My life as film noir.)




    Quietly they slept,
    in a field of bluebonnets;
    his head in her lap.





    In the morning light,
    a sailboat on the Hudson,
    moves as in a dream.





    Coffee on the porch,
    watching kids on bicycles
    chased by barking dogs.


    We met in hard times,
    we shared what little we had.
    and we got through it.



    May each day dawn with
    no regrets for yesterday,
    nor phone calls to make.




    What if we’re all cogs
    in a huge, complex machine,
    just hoping to mesh?



    double haiku:

    The screen door slams shut.
    An angry young man runs to
    his car and ‘peels out.’


    A young girl watches
    from the window and prays that
    her sadness will end.




    Remember; Thousands
    of things will go RIGHT for you,
    ev’ry single day.





    There is a structure
    to all things, and a context
    to fence it all in.




    The train ‘clacks’ along.
    I stare out the window as
    green meadows rush by.




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




    Mother's feeling Blue.
    Father's feeling Violet ...
    (Violet's the maid.)




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




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





    Japanese maples
    rustle noiselessly outside
    her mother's window.




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




    When I had a voice,
    singing without a promise,
    was all I hoped for.



    Crying into beer
    will water down your lager.
    Weep no more, lady.





    Singing for supper,
    sure beats acting for peanuts,
    and screaming for help.



    Sprawled on an ice floe
    heading for the falls;
    too late to make friends.




    Broken dreams only
    become so defined, when we
    awaken. Dream on.



    Stop ... Listen to me.
    Nothing will last. Got it? Good.
    Now go out and play.



    He ogled chorines
    that danced in scanty costumes
    and flirted with him.




    While we were waltzing,
    I suddenly realized ...
    How much I love you.



    Resolve by any
    other name is stubbornness.
    I'm full of resolve.




    When daffodils bloom,
    near the edge of one’s garden,
    passers-by may pluck.




    Locked in a body
    that can no longer run, he
    decides he'll just walk.




    Life will intrude on
    well-crafted scenarios ...
    don't write them in ink.





    Lifting off from earth,
    John Glenn climbed through the clouds to
    play in the cosmos.





    double haiku:


    Swimming with the tide
    may take you into oceans
    of profound regret.
    Lying on the beach,
    however, may burn your hide,
    so ya takes your choice.




    Watching the day fade,
    I feel a cooler breeze, and
    zip up my jacket.







    I do much wonder ...
    I also do much yearn and
    hope for the future.






    The bejeweled collar
    he wears, undercuts his claim
    he desires freedom.






    She seemed unaware
    her stunning figure put most
    men in an uproar.






    How easily the
    wheel of fortune turns, changing
    lives and destinies.






    A foggy dusk near
    Catherine Slip; Brooklyn's Bridge
    disappears from view.




    We may never know
    which winds blow thoughts through our minds,
    swirling up our past.





    Before Bea's beguine’s
    begun to beguile, betray
    Ben's beignet, Buddy.





    tanka haiku:

    Those that can not deal
    with their friend’s adversities,
    fear their own weakness.

        But smooth sailing weakens sailors
        while stormy weather breeds




    A ladybug clings
    to my sleeve.  I take her to
    visit my garden.




      Dogwoods are in bloom
      around the traffic circle,
      bumper to blossom.




    The weekend hunter,
    tripped on a pine cone. Even
    his dog rolled its eyes.





    As Spring emerges,
    crocuses and daffodils
    greet me while I stroll.




    Loose litter swirling
    through the canyons of midtown;
    Urban tumbleweeds.



    Art of the last word
    mostly involves keeping your
    eyes on the buzzer.




    Who gets the last word?
    Though debated through the years ...
    He who publishes.



    (This was posted by a woman in one of the AS Support groups I frequent on Facebook.  I responded to her photo by writing these haikus and posting them.)


    4 haikus:


    You won't disappear
    Your essence will remain in
    the minds of your friends.

    Do not go away,
    Even those that struggle have
    gifts to give the world.

    Do not go away
    each lesson you learn is taught
    through experience,

    Do not go away.
    You may not know it now, but
    you will be alright.






    Tragedy has struck!
    Lincoln borne by loving hands ...
    Zapruder painting.

    (150 years ago April 14th, 1865, Abraham Lincoln was assassinated.  This painting was done by an artist who was an eyewitness to the events following the shooting.)






    Centuries may turn
    But geniuses keep drawing ...
    The Da Vinci Snood.

    (Happy would-have-been birthday to Leonardo Da Vinci - born April 15, 1452)







    (Finally ... I came across this old one the other day. It still makes me laugh. )

    Tanka Haiku:

    Instead of eating
    a can of peas, she gobbled
    up the canapes.

    Now, despite her man's pleas, she
    can't fit under canopies.



    April is Spondylitis Awareness Month! 




    Thank you,  I came here just to read you. 

    Thanks trking!! 

    I gotta tell ya that:

    Sometimes I see things

    That no-one else seems to see

    and that worries me.


    I hereby render unto Mr. Smith the Dayly Poem of the Day Award for this here Dagblog Site, given to all of Mr. Smith from all of me. hahahah

    (Oh Mr. Smith gets the Dayly Line of the Day for this here Dagblog Site also!)

    I will come back.

    But you have to understand the context in which  I read this.

    I am watching Ancient Aliens again. Mostly cause I am an idiot.

    Yeah that thought is more than I could ever write.


    I have my own demons of course.


    That one line might be the story of my life.




    I am a man of constant sorrow.

    Well not really, there were times of course:



    The end (for now)

    I think my favorite George Clooney movie is still, "O' Brother Where Art Thou" ... Even if he was only lip-syncing Man of Constant Sorrow, it still makes me smile every time I see it.

    I was watching a bit of Ancient Aliens earlier this evening.  You know how much the History channel makes me crazy with it's never actually making a statement of fact in any of their shows ... It's always Ancient Alien theorists suggest ... or they pose everything in the form of a question; "Is it possible that Ancient Aliens came to earth and gave advanced technology to the Sumerians?"  An entire hour spent and the narrator never makes a definitive statement.  hahaha

    Oh ... and I used to get this song confused with Tangled up in Blue...  Buried Alive in the Blues.  It was originally supposed to be recorded by Janis Jopln; her musicians had already laid down the backing tracks, but she died the night before she was supposed to go into the studio to record the vocals.  Later, Paul Butterfield recorded it ... and I love his version.   

    Paul Butterfield's later band was called Better Days. 

    I wish I could say I have seen Better Days, but I have only heard them.


    This is two days too late.

    But damn, O Brother where art thou....

    I love that movie.

    I have to watch it at least once a year.

    There is a Woody Allen kind of theme to it and yet, there is existentialism (as I see it) present.

    I do not buy the Homer sense of it, yet....

    I do love this film.

    And I have no idea what Clooney was thinking at the time.



    Oh I have to tell you another thing, Mr. Smith that just created more laughter for me than even Patton Oswalt or Louis CK.

    My son has an open door policy as far as his bathroom facilities (as well as his bride) and so there is the grown up toilet as well as the tot's pot.

    So here he is, on the real pot and Precious shows up so that she might receive access to the baby pot.

    Well Daddy always is reading a newspaper.

    So Precious shows up with a newspaper and pretends to read right next to Daddy on the tot's pot.

    For whatever reason, as we humans pretend not to be mammals, this idea just kills me.


    How soon will Precious be doing the crosswords? hahahaha

    I thank you beforehand.

    This picture in my head just has me laughing hysterically.

    the end

    I suppose it's better to imitate that than imitate daddy shaving with a real razor blade. 

    "Daddy, what's a 4 letter word for defecate?" 

    A rainy news flash:

    Suicidal droplets jump

    from high-rise storm clouds!

    Ha!  Excellent Missy!! 



    Maria loves when
    suicidal raindrops fall
    on kitten's whiskers.



    Thanks, Smith. Great work.

    My favorite:


    "Stop--listen to me

    nothing will last..."



    Absolutely. "Stop -- listen to me" evokes an immediate sense of desperate urgency.

    Thanks, Missy.   As I said to Oxy.  This one was me imagining an adult speaking to their child, telling them a hard truth, but then letting them go back to being a child.   I think children have an amazing capacity to absorb hard truths and then switch right back to playing.

    It's ages old ... adults want to be children again and kids just want to grow up. Freedom is relative.

    That line of yours can translate so easily into other languages of life, beyond that of mother and child.

    Stop -- listen to me!

    I'm begging you, please don't go,

    just let me explain.


    Stop -- listen to me.

    Your life is worth more than this,

    let's talk for awhile.


    Stop -- listen to me

    my friend, I need to find the

    words to say goodbye.

    Stop--listen to me

    Don't just say you're leaving soon

    Get out already

    Stop -- listen to me,

    be careful ... don't let the door

    hit you in the ass.

    HA!!  Thanks Oxy and Missy.   I was having a rather bad day, but your haikus really made me smile, and laugh out loud.


    Stop!  Listen to me.
    You're gonna thank me later ...
    Just do the right thing.



    Just do the right thing.

    If you don't, it will own you -

    it will bruise your soul.

    I'm sorry your day hasn't been the very best, Mr. Smith. I hope it gets better, but if not, just wallow in the melancholy. Every once in awhile it helps.

    Ah, melancholy,

    A blind date gone off the tracks, 

    Smile and do your time.



    When she pukes her guts
    your blind date's gone off the tracks
    Call her a taxi.

    I hope you are not speaking from experience.


    Life is too short to
    wallow in melancholy.
    Marinate? Perhaps.


    Never walk around
    with a pebble in your shoe ...
    it will bruise your sole.



    If you marinate

    in melancholy, you might

    medicate your mind -

    But if you whistle

    while you're wallowing, you can

    wistfully unwind.

    Ha!!  Good ones, Missy!!


    But marinators
    become prevaricators,
    Whistling "Dixie"

    Then, they will wallow
    in fields that are fallow, (which
    is hard to swallow.)

    Just come to me my
    melancholy baby or ...
    sober up, Trixie.


    Thanks, Oxy!   That one was me imagining an adult telling a child the kind of existential warning, that we really rarely, if ever, get from our parents.  Enjoy your childhood, it will be over soon enough ... as will everything ...  I guess, in a way, this fits right in with DD's free-range children topic.  hahahaha










    Do not take this wrong.

    But you beat me today, or yesterday in numbers.

    Does anyone really know what time it is?

    The readers like you.

    They like you!

    Hang in there.

    I think you are getting into this!


    What you write is important.

    And others think the same as I do.


    Good nite and good luck!

    You are a good man.

    I dunno,  this just got to me tonight.

    If you're in need of a good chuckle, try fishing for it!

    For a good laugh ... Jonathan & Darlene Edwards (aka Paul Weston & Jo Stafford)




    Well, this certifies that you are NUTS!

    But I can live with that. hahhahahaha

    Where in the hell do you find songs like this?


    I was recently reminded of them by one of my best friends.  I remember hearing them back when I was a kid.   Jo Stafford was, of course, a well-known popular singer at the time.    Her husband came up with the premise of pretending to be a mediocre piano player when entertaining at Hollywood parties.   He was asked to do a comedy album and that's when he brought his wife into the act.  She is so talented at singing off-key. you might never guess that she is actually a really good singer.  In a time when comedy albums were king, they made 5 albums as Jonathan and Darlene Edwards.  You can find a number of cuts from their albums now on Youtube,  They are all over-produced and completely awful ,,, but in a good way.


    Here's another.  I can't embed it, but here is a link:

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