MURDER, POLITICS, AND THE END OF THE JAZZ AGE
by Michael Wolraich
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A Mid-January Friday Afternoon Thaw at the Haikulodeon
By MrSmith1 on Fri, 01/17/2014 - 3:00pm |
Here are this week's heap of haikus:
I yearn for Spring, when
lilacs in the front yard bloom
and eager hearts melt.
(Thanks to Kristina Rebelo for the use of her photograph.)
---
With each sun rise,
the dramas of Life resume
and we step onstage.
---
Neither trylon nor
perisphere could get TWO cars
on the LIE.
---
"Dude ... aren't we getting
way too old for this shit?" "You're
the endless bummer."
(Thanks to Kristina Rebelo for the use of her photograph.)
---
Her bleeding heart mixed
with his bloody ignorance;
Their plasma TV.
---
In this lonely place,
the shadows offer solace
only to the damned.
---
Sweep the pine needles
Take the cards from the mantle
Cleaning up Christmas.
---
He sat in his room
and played a lonely waltz on
his concertina.
---
Over-heard-ku:
"Hand me my tickets."
"Don't you play the lottery?"
"I have not won ... yet."
---
Short stack of pancakes,
coffee on the side ... Eat. Drink.
Pay the tab and go.
---
The radiator
sputters back to life ... But the
toaster's on the fritz.
---
The doctor's office;
where sick folks get together
to read magazines.
( Did I write this or just remember it from somewhere else? I don't know. )
---
Fog on the shore road.
A man on a bicycle
appears lost in thought.
---
Shakespeare-ku:
Halt, twerk-ish knave! Thou
photo-bombed Lady MacBeth!
Delete damned Selfie!
( from Act 3 - Scene 1 of the lost Shakespearean masterpiece, As You Lick It. )
---
I'm tied up in knots
The Man's boot is on my neck.
Gosh, I can still dream.
---
- 3230 reads
Comments
With each sun rise,
the dramas of Life resume
and we step onstage.
I do not know Smith
When it rises, there's no stage
At the least for me
I find that for me
The new sun will rise each day
But for what purpose?
The dramas of life
Hold so very little for....
Oh what is the use?
......
I'm goin down
by Richard Day on Fri, 01/17/2014 - 5:14pm
Do not minimize
the role you play, my friend. Act
the scene, not the plot.
---
What seems pointless, might
be key to adventures, of
which you're unaware.
by MrSmith1 on Fri, 01/17/2014 - 5:28pm
Here are three from Masaoka Shiki, a great haiku master, and a member of the Japanese Baseball Hall of Fame. I guess being translated would explain breaking any formulaic construction rule. I always enjoy your Friday postings.
the trick
to ball catching
the willow in a breeze
like young cats
still ignorant of love
we play with a ball
spring breeze
this grassy field makes me
want to play catch
by A Guy Called LULU on Fri, 01/17/2014 - 9:21pm
I love these. You're right, translations almost always screw up the syllable count, but with these, the essence of the haiku comes through intact.
Funny, I have argued with other haiku writers about the necessity of staying with the 5-7-5 or 5-7-5-7-7 format. Some American haiku writers say that because of the way the Japanese to English translation messes with the structure of Japanese haikus, the syllable count does not matter. I would argue that since we are writing and having our haikus read in English, it matters. It's the game we're playing; the challenge. We're attempting to create a short poem within a defined structure. If you don't want to play the game, don't call it a haiku. When and if, our American haikus are translated into Japanese, then the syllable count shouldn't matter to the Japanese, just as the 5-7-5 structure doesn't matter to us with the translations of Japanese haikus. That's my theory, anyway.
by MrSmith1 on Fri, 01/17/2014 - 10:50pm
I like this.
I am going to save this somehow!
Who cares anyway? I mean structure is the essence of this exercise, but 5-7-5-7-7
does not seem to hurt anything!
Look at the meter sometime.
Like I intimated before, what does one do with the schwa?
by Richard Day on Fri, 01/17/2014 - 11:08pm
The 5-7-5-7-7 form is known as tanka.
Yes, you know my heart,
for we are kindred spirits,
walking the same path.
But stay wary, dear friend, for
paths, like lover's hearts, may turn.
---
The schwa is eaten,
yes eaten, by the diphthong,
All the live-long day ...
by MrSmith1 on Sat, 01/18/2014 - 12:02am
Tall trees say nothing
living only for sunrise
Green grass becomes brown
by A Guy Called LULU on Sat, 01/18/2014 - 2:09am
Good one, Guy called LULU!
Willows will whisper
dogwoods have to bark, but the
tall trees say nothing.
by MrSmith1 on Sat, 01/18/2014 - 5:09am
Enjoyed it as always.
by trkingmomoe on Fri, 01/17/2014 - 11:18pm
On the Promenade
Fog made Manhattan flicker.
But then the cloud came:
Its outline barely perceived
Before wrapping us in gloom.
by moat on Sun, 01/19/2014 - 8:25pm
Nice. Tanka, moat.
But then, the cloud came.
Couples stopped dancing and old
men rose to their feet.
Children seemed bewildered, but
saw fear in their parents' eyes.
by MrSmith1 on Sun, 01/19/2014 - 10:33pm
Interruptions;
One thought occludes another;
Hats worn at movies.
Clumsy clueless wherewithal,
The pick pocket getting paid.
by moat on Wed, 01/22/2014 - 7:04pm
Nice moat. ( though one syllable short in the first line.)
Hats worn at movies,
in days gone by, were targets
for stale ju-ju-bees.
.
by MrSmith1 on Wed, 01/22/2014 - 10:00pm
It's not one syllable short if you grew up in Texas and pronounce the last one like "eons."
What is this diphthong
doing in my haiku soup?
"The Butterfly, sir."
by moat on Thu, 01/23/2014 - 7:45am
HA! Good one!
Why did the diphthong
cross the throat? It did not see
the glottal stop sign.
( I know, pretty weak response. Sorry 'bout that. It's all I got at the moment..)
by MrSmith1 on Thu, 01/23/2014 - 8:22am