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

    A Non-Dystopian Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

     

     

     

     


    Here's this week's heap of haikus:

     


    Love may seem like a
    fallowed field, but Love won't yield
    a random harvest.

     

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    Though living in the
    best of all possible worlds
    Candide still hatesTrump.

     

    (Just-for-fun Bonus:  What is possibly the best overture for a Broadway musical ... ever.)

     

     

     


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    Ain't got 'do, re mi?'
    All they'll call you's deportees ...
    This land belongs to ...?

     

     Happy would-have-been 104nd birthday to folk musician Woody Guthrie.

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    As humidity
    rises, timidity falls,
    she wears less and less.

     

     

     

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    The sheer cotton dress
    flutters around her body
    with each gust of wind.

     

     


     

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    tanka haiku:

     

    Two pretty girls
    waiting for a crosstown bus
    discuss politics.

    One said, "Hillary's for me!"
    The other: "I hate her too!"

     

     

     

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    Trump has short fingers
    but sharp elbows, which he needs
    when combing his hair.

     

     

     


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    In the afterglow
    either embrace or reject
    changes the flames wrought.

     

     

     

     

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    kids discover joy ...
    the world comes to a stop ... we're
    innocence junkies

     

     

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    Set wide the window
    and let me drink in the day
    for I'm feeling parched.

     

     

    (from an Edith Wharton quote ... more or less.)  

     
     

     

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    Sunshine and whiskey
    are a lot like Love; too much
    can make you go blind.

     

     

     

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    Thoughts run through my head,
    in-congruent images
    chasing after them.

     

     

     

     

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    Ev'ry Flea Market
    has old maids who'll wrestle you
    for Fiesta-ware.

     

     

     

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    Plaid lumberjack shirt
    o'er black tights and blue tattoos;
    hot babe on 4th St.

     

     

     

     

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    I stand in a field,
    listening to the night's sounds ...
    strangely comforted.

     

     

     

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    A whisper, a glance ...
    her touch lasts but a moment,
    yet his core's shaken.


     

     

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    Memories still pop
    into my addled brain, to
    amuse my dull thoughts.

     

     

     

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    As some swallows swoop,
    some roses dance in the breeze;
    our world's in motion.


    Utagawa Hiroshige (Japanese, 1797–1858) |
    Swallows and Kingfisher with Rose Mallows | ca. 1838

     

     

     

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    A cool Summer night;
    he whistles a sad song as
    he strolls down the street.

     

     


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    A box of choc'lates
    sits on his office desk and
    hopes to be opened.

     

     

     

     

     

     

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    double haiku:

     

     

     

    It's three fifteen, and
    wakened from a sad dream, I
    try to clear my head.

    Thoughts of you linger
    and entwine with my day's chores.
    You still haunt my heart.

     


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    On grey, rainy days,
    she first sulked at the window,
    then, wished for blue skies.

     

     

     

     

     

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    Do not be alarmed,
    but those mental disorders
    ARE all in your head.


     

     

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    double haiku:

     

    Riding the porch swing,
    we kiss while listening for
    your father's footsteps.

    The moonlight creates
    shadows which tease my desire
    your allure is pure.

     

     


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    Fitful nights will pass.
    Sleep will overtake sadness.
    A new day will dawn.

     

     

     


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    A sliver of moon,
    slicing through the clouds, restless
    shadows roam the fields.


     

     

     

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    riddle-ku:

     

    Why is a cat like
    a burning monk? 'Cuz neither's
    putting itself out.

     

     


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    Life's overwhelming
    Ev'rything I do, brings pain,
    I'm feeling helpless ...

     

     

     

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    haiku triplet:  

     


    Another shooting.
    Still more lives lost, more wounded.
    Still too many guns.

    Too many shooters
    that should never own a gun,
    can still get a gun.

    Stop protecting the
    guilty by hiding them 'midst
    all the innocent.

     

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    It is Summertime.
    The livin's easy and the
    fishin' is sublime.

     


    (My mom in the mid-1930's)

     

     

     

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    Sitting on her porch
    on a Summer's afternoon,
    she feels a cool breeze.

     

    (My maternal grandmother about 1917)

     

     

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    Beauty is fleeting,
    like Cinderella rushing
    back home at midnight.

     

     


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    Married for ten years
    and never an argument ...
    just bitter feelings.


     

     

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    double haiku:

     

    An Irish Setter,
    gallops through Riverside Park,
    greeting each toddler.

    His owner just laughs,
    reassuring scared nannys,
    the dog is friendly.

     

     


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    At the Hootenanny,
    he fell in love with Mary,
    sans Peter and Paul.


     

     

     

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    tanka haiku:

    Try to retain the
    ability to express
    spontaneous joy.

        Any moment, happiness
        could spring from your consciousness.

     

     

     


     

     

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    When the universe
    conspires to foil your plans,
    don't bitch, make new plans.

     

     

     

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    haiku quintet - written last year to celebrate Ramona's 59th wedding anniversary:

     

    Forced to make choices,
    Ramona's voices told her
    t'was best to be wed.

    Now, they fit snugly,
    their bodies melt into one;
    their love, just oozes.

    There is a comfort
    that blesses lovers after
    nearly sixty years.

    They're like old shoes, whose
    leather has grown supple 'cuz
    they're worn ev'ry day.

    Only Love will last
    beyond the moon and stars ... so
    keep your hand in mine.

     

    Update:  I'm delighted to be able to say, Happy 60th Wedding Anniversary, to my cyber-friend, Ramona and her husband Edward!!  Here's to many more to come!  Check out Ramona's own words on the subject.


    Nineteen fifty-six
    brought us Princess Grace Kelly
    and Elvis Presley.

    The King of Rock, now long gone
    The Princess long gone too ... But

    You and Edward are
    still here and from those of us
    who've never been wed ...

    Thanks for passing your
    genes along and keeping the
    earth populated.

    It takes a lot of pressure
    Off of us ... know what I mean?

     

     

     

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    Storming the Bastille;
    not something that you want to
    lose your head over.

     

    Alternate-ku:

    "Storming the ramparts,
    The crowd shouts, 'Off with their heads!', 
    Happy Bastille Day

     

    (Happy Bastille Day - July 14th!)

     

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    On the road of Life,
    focus on what drives your heart,
    not the car you're in.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

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    Comments

    Thanks so much for this most wonderful anniversary gift.  If I could write like you I could have saved myself a lot of words with that blog!

    Two of my good friends were probably at the flea market fighting over Fiesta Ware.  Lol.

    As always, I'm in awe of your haikuability.  You're the best!

     


    Thank you, Ramona.