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

    A Presumptive Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

     

     

     

    Here's this week's heap of haikus:

     

     

    Yesterday-ku:


    Cinco de Mayo?
    Torpedo a condiment!
    (Yeah, it's a cheap joke.)

     

     

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    tanka haiku: 

     

    When an opponent
    wants to forgive and forget,  
    let them and join them.

       bitter recriminations
       never end up as blessings.

     

     

     

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    When I eat beef stew,
    I think that each leftover
    got a second chance.

     

     

     

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    Dear God: Stay away.
    You've been messing up my life.
    Let me screw myself.

     

    ( Headline: Man goes to court to get restraining order against God )

     


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    Beyond the brick wall
    behind a small cottage, an
    orderly garden.

     

     

     

     

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    Charms of finches, and
    murders of crows ... memories
    of old elephants.

     

     


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    tanka haiku:


    Crowded Conveyance;
    Two women, a dog, a bike,
    a small child and me.

       Crammed in an elevator
       Waiting for the thing to go.

     

     

     


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    In a fitful sleep,
    memories long forgotten,
    swarm my un-conscious.

     

     

     

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    They sway with the breeze,
    which is why her little dog,
    barks at sunflowers.

     

     

     

     


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    Bells in the distance ...
    Yipee!  It's the ice cream man!
    Wanna creamsicle?
     

     

     


     

     

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

     

     

     

     

     

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    Friday nights, a line
    forms at the lover's leap ... for
    the One O'clock Jump.

     


     

     

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    I no longer fret
    and no longer worry ...  I'm
    conjuring rainbows.

     

     

     

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    tanka haiku:

     

    We fight our whole lives
    to thrive in the world of our
    parents, only to

         realize that we're living
         in the world of our children.

     

     

     

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    Saunter through the woods,
    leave all your cares behind. Be
    consumed by nature.

     

     


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    Seldom will you see
    a second thought that dances
    in the ev'ning breeze.

     

     

     


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    In a smoke-filled bar
    A winded woodwind player
    got to the coda.

     


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    No matter what heights
    your Melody soars, Rhythm
    Will still be master.

     

     

     

     


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    Double haiku:

     

    My world has shifted.
    I'm now, sadly, no-one’s son.
    Who will hold me now?

     


    And so, another
    Mothers' Day will go by with
    only memories.


    (Happy Mothers' Day this Sunday to all you mothers out there!)

     

    (My sister, my mom and me ... Winter of 1951)

     

     


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    Flowery bouquets,
    made the room seem less dreary.
    and soaked up her tears.

     

     


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    ‘midst purple flowers,
    a hummingbird suspended
    in mid-air … awesome.
     

     

     

     

     

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    Caught in the downpour
    without an umbrella, he
    shrugs his broad shoulders.

     
     

     

     


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    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 strength.

     

     

     

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    Windows to our souls,
    eyes behold the world, but our
    minds create vision.

     

     

     

     

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    In a quiet place
    which no-one else could enter,
    he wrestled with doubt.

     

     

     

     

     


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

     

     

     

     

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    Irreconcilable-ku:

     

    'Cuz she doesn't keep
    away from bootleg hootch when
    she’s on a spree, NOR ...

    buttons up her overcoat.
    THAT’S why he’s divorcing her.

     

     

     

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    alliterative-ku:


    Before Bab's beguine’s
    begun to beguile, betray
    Ben's beignet, Buster.

     

     

     


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    They'll take ev'rything
    They'll take the shirt off your back
    Why are people like that?

     

     

     

     

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    Into the darkness
    fluttering pigeons rise and
    pretend they're fireflies.


    Artist Duke Riley's Art project begins tomorrow night in Brooklyn. 
    It involves 2000 pigeons with tiny LED lights taped to their feet.

     


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    On this Irish morn,
    May ye be as happy now,
    As God 'ill allow.

     

     

     

     


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    She removes his shirt
    He unbuttons her silk blouse ...
    (The kids are at camp.)

     

     

     

     


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    When you're playing 'Dad'
    at age seventeen, you must
    cast short first-graders.

    17 year old MrSmith1 onstage at my high school.  The play was, "The Lottery", the kid was a ringer from the nearby middle school, and way too tall to be my son.

     

     

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    As day turns to dusk,
    neatly anchored sloops slowly
    bob in the harbor.


    (Photo courtesy Kristina Rebelo)

     

     

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    On World A.S. Day,
    Spondys 'round the world unite;
    Fusing Together.


    Saturday, May 7th, 2016 is World AS Day. 
    There are approximately 33 million people worldwide with some form of Spondyloarthritis.

     

    ****

    Note:  After next week's blog, I will be taking a two week break in order to attend my grand-niece's wedding. 

     

    Comments

    Oh ... and one more thing.   Just because ... 

     

     

    Paul Butterfield
    12/17/42 - 05/04/87


    Wonderful cache, Mr. Smith.

     

    Everything is green

    Grape vines are last to leaf out

    Wasps search for housing


    Everything is green

    Although only in my mind

    Still in search of Spring


    Good one, flowerchild!

     

    Everything is green
    as I lean over the rail
    and puke my guts out.


    Excellent, Oxy!

    Wasps search for housing
    Jews remain in Williamsburg
    Blacks still get red-lined.

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