Friday, May 30, 2008

 

Nobody Expects Haiku Friday!


Well, except the Spanish Medievalist, who, appropriately, is now in Spain. I just hope he got one of those red suits.

There is only one topic for this week-- that of summer. It can be anything relating to summer, broadly construed.

Here is mine:

A car backfires
I hear it from our screened porch
And then, just the wind.

Now, it is your turn:

Comments:
heat rising up
no parking on the dance floor
it's too sticky.
 
The highway's crowded
with broken heroes on a
last chance power drive.

Drywall is now in.
Mediation may be moved,
to August, September.

So: we'll move off the
Goat Farm. Into not yet
finished house. Super.

No appliances
either, or floors, or furniture.
Kind of like camping.

Advice: If you see
guys in orange vests start to dig?
Just GIVE THEM your house.

It is MUCH quicker, and the result is the same.
 
Nobody expects
the Spanish Inquisition!
Can't think up more lines.
 
Traffic disappears.
The tour busses come to town.
Summer in DC.

We're off to the beach.
Rolling surf. Cool breezes.
Sand in BlackBerry?
 
Texas summer morn
A steady stillness retreats
To a riot of heat.
 
Summertime Coffee:
I turn onto Eighth Street; See
Osler's Common Grounds.
 
If it was today,
Clark, you would have also seen
Me getting coffee.
 
When I step outside
why must I swim to my car?
Humidity stinks.
 
Ski season seems far
As I get older, I wish
for weather colder
 
Because it's summer
I taste salt on the place where
your neck meets shoulder.
 
Who knew that Springsteen
Wrote Haikus? Or was it the
Spirits in the Night?
 
It ain't easy bein'
A panda, growin' n' matin'
And runnin' a blog.
 
8:50. blink. blink.
Why is that important? Hmmm. . .Ah!
Dressed in five. Still late.
 
Summertime and the
Livin' is easy. Unless
You teach summer school.

I hear that summers
In Vermont are very nice.
Sounds good to me now!

RFDIII
 
Hotter than hades
Tar clings to my shoes, as I'm
Swimming through the air
 
Thunder getting closer
Promise of release, at last,
After waiting days.
 
Season's first thunder
Smell of the approaching clash
Between hot and less.
 
Me, I expected
The Spanish Inquisition:
Thanksgiving dinner.
 
I am moving to
Texas. Hot, but no one will
blow up your house there.

Get house with a pool.
No goat, great food, Osler's there.
I hate Oregon.

Don't worry Osler!
I'm not really moving there.
Scared you, didn't I?
 
Summer of ice bats
Wedgehead and Minimum Wage
Too many kids around!
 
Sunscreen and floaties
Pruny fingers and green hair
Cannonball, jack knife

Shampoo, rinse, repeat
Goggles, trashy magazine
My summer at pool


Mrs. CL
 
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