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.

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.

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.

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?

Haiku: バターを塗ったトーストを食べる Eating buttered toast.

 

Eating buttered toast --

the warm crumbs kissing my lips;

jam superfluous. 

Eating buttered toast --

where's the newspaper today?

Oh yeah, it's online. 

Eating buttered toast --

drinking coconut water;

what would mother think?

バターを塗ったトーストを食べる-

ココナッツウォーターを飲む;

母はどう思いますか？

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

a tumbling leaf

blows up against the porch door,

seeks sanctuary.

Today's Timerick: China Invented Many Things. It Says Skiing Is One of Them. (WSJ)

 

The Chinese are an ancient race.

They have a giant data base.

It dates from Ming and further back;

there's is no wisdom that they lack.

And so it's no surprise to me

that they are first, creatively,

to invent the use of skis;

fermented drink; and honey bees.

They also were the prime designers

of comedy and all one-liners.

Chopsticks, paper, black gunpowder;

they even made the first clam chowder.

Silk and ivory they made

into forks and window shade.

While the rest of mankind grunted

and on all fours went and hunted

for a snail or sour root,

the Chinese dined on bamboo shoot.

No wonder that today they hanker

to rule the world and be its banker!

Valentine's Day -- Bah, humbug!

 

(Dedicated to Elizabeth Bernstein, of the Wall Street Journal.)

I wish all cherubs straight to Hell.

Their arrows for scrap I would sell.

Fondants, nugats, marzipan;

take it to the garbage man.

Cardboard hearts with tinsel bright

should burn to light up this whole night.

Plow the flower beds beneath

the frosty smarmy winter heath.

Close the cafes and thee-aye-ters;

throw Hallmark to allee-gay-ters.

Martyr Valentine anew!

With my heart he'll never screw!

Haiku for Amy. 私の最愛の妻に捧げる

Her ear lobes carry

drops of water in the pool

like diamond earrings.

She lays in the sun

as I wish away cold winds;

her closed eyes aglow.

She wears yellow gloves

to wash dishes at night;

I dry by her side.

Today's Timerick: Why Russian Invasion Peril Is Driving Oil Prices Near $100 (WSJ)

 

I went to top the tank off

when my eyes beheld a sign

that said a gallon of the stuff

was ninety-bucks-and-nine.

"Woe is me!" I hollered

as my wallet shriveled up:

"I can't afford a gallon now

or even half a cup!"

I parked my car, then shot it;

so it would not suffer pain  --

My motor oil and brake fluid

I poured right down the drain.

Luckily I worked at home,

and never did commute --

but any walking was a strain

and wore out boot on boot.

I tried the train; I tried the bus --

but all I did was wait and cuss.

Was I a hermit soon to be,

confined at home with my TV?

And then I met the girl next door,

and soon discovered sweet l'amour.

But she would never take a step

without a car in which to schlep.

And so she broke my heart, alas --

and all because of costly gas!

This talk of war in the Ukraine

made my love life something vain.

But then the Russians came around,

and the price came tumbling down.

Now there's gasoline galore

(but with Russia WE'RE at war . . . )