MrSmith1's picture

    A Somewhat Blurry Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

     

     

     

    Here's this week's heap of haikus: 

     

     

     

    Another Agnes ...
    my grandma, born this day in
    Eighteen Ninety-one.


    (Agnes Marion Mulry Tracy Tharp -1891-1951)

     

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    Wendell always wished
    his yard was more like his next
    door neighbor's garden.

     

     

    (Thanks to Kristina Rebelo for the use of her photograph.)

     

     

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    Nine haikus:


    My first landlord in
    New York was named Guisseppi.
    He loved Bustelo.

    He was a tailor
    in a Long Island City
    men's suit factory.

    He would tune in to
    Op'ra on radio and
    soccer on TV.

    He drank espresso;
    Bustelo espresso and
    Artichoke liqueur.

    He was my landlord
    for over 20 years.  We
    would communicate

    through hand gestures for
    he spoke little English and
    I, no Italian.

    On late Summer nights
    he'd bring me tomatoes from
    his backyard garden.

    Sometimes we would sit
    jn lawn chairs in the garden
    And drink espresso.

    It wsa too bitter
    for my taste, but not for his.
    He loved espresso.

     


     

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    A dog that sticks to
    chasing, rather than chasing
    sticks, has learned something.

     



    ---

     

    In a rocket ship
    orbiting the planet, I
    photograph the moon,

     

     

    ---

     

    The writer just smiled;
    he'd heard thoughts were fleeting, but
    wet ink would soon dry.




    Hey! Stop nudging me!
    I’ll get up in a minute …
    Hit the snooze alarm.

    ---

    At the twin’s law firm,
    a pair of para-legals ...
    Double jeopardy?

    ---

    Dispositions change.
    Mindsets frequently evolve.
    Never close a door.

    ---

    Waiting for the dawn,
    I lie in somber darkness,
    replaying last night.

    ---

    Lunch with an old friend;
    laughter at shared history,
    tears for tomorrow.

    ---

    Double haiku:

    Elegant gestures,

    are sometimes ways of easing

    tense relations ... but ...

    Your ‘middle finger
    ’ain't no elegant gesture.
    Know what I'm sayin'?

    (Edited to fix ... Having a bad iritis flare-up plays havoc with my spelling.)
    ---

     


    To friends, be loyal,
    to enemies, forgiving …
    Siblings? Persevere.

    ---

    In a wooden shack,
    on the outskirts of town, lived
    his late uncle’s wife.

    ---

    His girlfriend’s bedroom,
    made him very nervous; so
    dainty and perfumed.

    ---

    a tangerine sky,
    clouds which haunt the horizon,
    lure me into night.

    ---

    Dogwoods bloom at last!
    Spring’s celebration of joy
    finda Riverside Park.

    ---

    Double haiku:

    In a sleepy town,
    off the beaten path, lived a
    man who knew nothing.

    He was fed by cows,
    carried by horses and was
    worshiped by his dogs.

    ---


    The future, said the
    gypsy, held great things ... but she’d
    mis-read the-tea leaves.

    ---

    If you tug a thread,
    keep in mind that the sweater
    just might unravel.

    ---

    Petals of roses,
    scattered along the pathway,
    hint at who’s to come.

    ---

    In primeval woods
    you can find stumps to sit on
    while you play your flute.

     

     


    =====

    April is Spondylitis Awareness Month.  Did you know that the CDC now says that there are approx. 2.7 million Americans with some form of Spondylitis?  That's roughly equal to the population of Chicago.

     

     

     

    Comments

    Thanks for this.  I am on a short break tonight.  I still have more to do in the kitchen.  I have zucchini chocolate cake in the oven,  Zucchini bread waiting to go in the oven.  Cabbage all over the place and lettuce.  I have to wash the lettuce and other salad greens to put in containers ready to make salad this week.  Pineapple to turn into jam.  It was CSA box day today.  I have just a month left and it is over with for the season.  It will start back up in Nov.

    Anyways I got a smile out of the hand gesture one. You through in a little surprise with the second part.  


    Thanks Trkingmomoe.  I made the correction to the haiku you mentioned. I've  been having an iritis flareup and it makes seeing clearly a bit difficult, which plays havoc with my spelling.


    If your eyes are bothering you can pick some of your older verses and republish them in grouped themes.  I enjoy going back and looking at them,so will everyone else. And Richard will think they are new.Hee hee,(whispering ) "because he says his memory is gone."   


    I wrote this two days ago and forgot to post it, evidently...

    Monday is 50

    Can you imagine this temp?

    50 is coming

     

    Today I slushed through

    I slushed through water & snow

    But there was some tar

    Tar is a good thing

    If you wish to seek balance

    Tar is a good thing.

     

    Ice and snow are tough

    They are tough to ambulate

    Ambulate is tough

     

    But Monday, 50?

    Hell, the winter shall melt some

    And tar shall prevail

     

    I miss the black tar

    I miss the short cuts I walk

    Cold is not the point

     

    Might I just get there

    Cold might be

    Slush, impossible

     

    Impossible

    to friends be loyal

    to enemies, forgiving

    siblings, persevere

    done with Haiku for a second

    I think about these things.

    I write about these things.

    Stand in another's shoes for a sec.

    My 'enemies' just forget all rules and lie and cheat and abscond and obliterate and confound and I could give you links.

    Slavery was bad

    And the right will obfuscate

    How do I react?

    I don't know how to

    React to this treachery?

    I really don't know

    I am so very

    Right and  yet the right is wrong

    I just must give up

    I cannot be right

    All the frickin time but I

    Cannot be that wrong

    I give up

     

    Nice blog

    I wrote most of this two days ago for you.

    And I forgot.



    Thanks DD.  As always, it's a pleasure to read your responses.


    The doors do not close.

    Tags on the knobs disturb you.

    Breathe the hotel air.

     

    Spring wraps its scarf tight,

    waiting in the longer day:

    A quiet bus stop.

     


    Lovely, moat!  

    A lonely bus stop
    on a Monday afternoon
    I count the taxis.


    The stop has one friend

    to help cast moving shadows;

    Sundials in transit.


    You must cover stops
    to start the music,  take your
    piccolo and blow.


    It was almost gone.

    We dance to the nick of time;

    Needing the sharp edge.

     


    He hesitated,
    needing to sharpen his edge.
    Time was almost gone.


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