Tuesday, February 22, 2022

Today's Timerick: Russian Roulette.

 President Biden on Tuesday said his administration is taking steps to limit the impact that sanctions imposed on Russia have on the U.S. economy, although he acknowledged some effects were likely.

(WSJ)



Joe Biden knows just what to do
to fight the Russian bugaboo.
So when old Putin struts his stuff,
our Joe shows him we're mighty tough.

He scatters sanctions like the dust
to make those Ruskies all go bust.
And THAT will show 'em who is boss,
as they are hit with fear and loss. 

All pipeline deals are dead and gone;
an import ban on cardamon.
Their assets we have frozen good;
they can't come visit Hollywood.

Tabasco Sauce they cannot get,
while we refuse them Tagamet.
And while the Russian bear might growl,
our own strong folk will never scowl . . . 

As gasoline climbs up so far
we cannot drive a kiddie car.
And inflation gets its mitts
on ev'rything from shoes to grits.

Our wages have gone flat and stale,
and many hold a rummage sale
to finance college for their kids
or just so they won't hit the skids.

So homelessness a cancer stays
as more and more face hopeless days;
and nights upon a park bench chill,
cuz housing costs are not a frill.

But we Americans are strong
and know the diff tween right and wrong.
We'll soldier on without a grump --
but please God save us all from Trump!

Haiku: 溶ける雪が水たまりになります The snowmelt puddles

 

the snowmelt puddles --

drowning dead leaves and grasses;

ruthless and chilly.


the snowmelt puddles --

sparrows gather around it;

bar brawls erupting.


the snowmelt puddles --

capturing a pale dazed sun;

not yellow, not white.

Monday, February 21, 2022

Haiku: これらの雪は巨大です! These snowflakes are huge!

 

These snowflakes are huge!

White doilies fluttering down

on top of my head.


These snowflakes are huge!

Settling on the cold ground

like alien lace.


These snowflakes are huge!

Who makes such sterile beauty?

How long will they last?

Haiku: コーンブレッドは焼き上がります The cornbread is done.

 

The cornbread is done --

a sense of humid glory

fills the apartment.


The cornbread is done --

this is what yellow smells like;

an old sun's color.


The cornbread is done --

no raisins this time, alas;

was the salt forgot?

Sunday, February 20, 2022

Haiku: One brown maple leaf. 茶色のカエデの葉1枚

 


One brown maple leaf --

blown up on its brittle stem;

a whole deadened tree.


One brown maple leaf --

moves in the wind like a crab;

trapped in crisp brown grass.


One brown maple leaf --

on the chill soggy sidewalk;

why does gray exist?


Saturday, February 19, 2022

Haiku: ゴム大根 Rubber radishes

 


Rubber radishes --

wiggles while being sliced up;

good enough for guests.


Rubber radishes --

shredded into snow white slaw;

add some vinegar.


Rubber radishes --

on sale at the small market

next to "Street Closed" sign.

Haiku: The clock's steady tick. 時計の安定したクリック

 

The clock's steady click --

overheard in sleepless night;

the judge's gavel.


The clock's steady click --

perhaps the hands will applaud

at midnight for her.


The clock's steady click --

hoping the battery dies;

the dark bed so warm.


******************************


left in the long dark --

the gray owls rejoice in it;

others hoard their light.



the clouds multiply

in a sky drenched in moonlight --
with just heat lightning. 


The nest falls apart
in the winter wind and snow --
young birds are long gone.

Friday, February 18, 2022

Haiku: 夜のひじ Elbow in the night

 


Elbow in the night --

move over and keep breathing;

where's the damn pillow?


Elbow in the night --

she has opened the window;

the moon leaking in.


Elbow in the night --

nightlight in the blue bathroom;

the plumbing trembles.




Thursday, February 17, 2022

Haiku: 雪片は躊躇します Snowflakes hesitant.

 


snowflakes hesitant --

scarce. as if miserly clouds

begrudged the whiteness.


snowflakes hesitant --

dropping down for a visit;

spaced from each other.


snowflakes hesitant --

the man in a black muffler

walks through them serene.

Wednesday, February 16, 2022

Narrative Poem: Christmas tidings.

 


"I dreamed you had a beard last night"

I told my wife recently.

"What nonsense" she replied,

while crocheting rubber bands into

a bath mat.

That's what I love about her;

she is handy to have around

and doesn't let flattery turn her head.

"I'm going out for a walk" I said.

"Be back before Christmas" she told me.

"Okie-dokie, smokey." I blew her a kiss

as I went out the door.

They were having a run on the fog bank;

so I stood around to watch that for a while.

Luckily, I don't keep any funds in the cloud.

Then I went into the park to look for old men.

Older than me.

To watch them wander around looking for 

a bench that didn't have a puddle in the 

middle of it.

You might think such a thing sad,

but the old men are refreshed with

such a legitimate beef --

one they can tell their kids

and send crotchety emails to

City Hall about.

There was a pine tree

giving me the fish eye,

so I moved along to 

the crowbar factory --

where I have a friend 

in the curling department.

But he wasn't in.

So I bought a dozen crowbars

as Christmas presents

and lugged them back home.

Where my wife was turning

thumbtacks into brads

for when we repair the 

belvedere.

Didn't I tell you;

she's the complete package?