Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion
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Haiku
"Scrambled, poached, sunny
side up...how do you like your
egg?" The waitress asked.
side up...how do you like your
egg?" The waitress asked.
“I like my waitresssunny side up,” he snickered
to his coffeecup.
I just snorted red wine out of my nose! Awesome, M!Brilliant series, gang - you are a very witty bunch of pirates and your friendship is greatly appreciated :)
I actually waited for M, I know he couldn't resist :)
Your haiku is missed, R!
Your haiku is missed, R!
Too kind, L. But since you asked ;)The hard-boiled broad said,
Hey, sonny - you just been laid?
Show me your money.
Good morning, Ryan and Leslie!“Nothing left,” he spat,
“but the dregs.” Nor had he cash
for bacon and eggs.
Good evening, M! :) Lol! You two, tsk tsk
No food to steady
his knees-a-jell-o; no luck
for mashed potato.
No food to steady
his knees-a-jell-o; no luck
for mashed potato.
The hungry fella,dirty and hungry
stood on the back roads
doing odd jobs
for some lonesome honeys.
He found a guitar,chased the sun. “My Back Roads Babe”
went to Number 1.
He sang of Plains winds,autumn’s brush fires, strummed the hum
of telegraph wires.
His words resoundedCreated a canopy
Joy and peace combined
The resonant wordWas heard by a bird or two
Sitting in the park.
The word that was heardby a bird (or two) was slurred
by tankards of brew.
A wrote: "Oh, I forgot my haiku. Don't want Leslie reprimanding me. :D"
Okay, that statement makes me feel old :P
***
Funny how a cup
of coffee goes a long way;
from morning til night.
(or sometimes until the next day)
Okay, that statement makes me feel old :P
***
Funny how a cup
of coffee goes a long way;
from morning til night.
(or sometimes until the next day)
There was once a timeWhen the coffee was sublime
Now it's all I need.
Addictive substancenow has stolen my palate
I'm lost without it
Lost and tired I am.I need a cup of that
goodness in my hand.
To help me through
my tiresome day.
The naked canvas,Mirrors the infinite void
Where we fear to be,
And where we want to be found
Without paint, honest and true.
A wrote: "What??? You mean Frank??? LOL!"Yep, haha. :)
"My tired skin, pleasedon't paint on this; I don't want
to be your naked canvas."
Sorry just had to, hehe. I know the last one wasn't 5 syllables but still... I think I need sleep, hahahaha.
The Professor: What a child he is, that Frank. I bet he doesn't think of me. [He turns and looks over at Pandora, who is writing something.]The brush with white paint
Deftly dances across space
To touch the moment
As a trace on white canvas
That can be known but not seen.
“Though blind, from paintingI’ll not desist. I’ll become
an Impressionist!”
He filled canvases
with blindfolded sights and scenes
of moonless midnights.
Such boldness, beautyart displays: one had to seem
deaf t' unhear the praise.
Milt, after sculptingnights and days, stenciled lilies
on restaurant trays.
Splash of colors filled
his days, hiding the demons
he wanted to slay.
his days, hiding the demons
he wanted to slay.
Colorful facadesMask wraiths of his darkened past
Colors are fading
Giving way to night
Secret memories are known
The dark is now light.
Wearing a mask is
his favorite thing, to hide
his face when he sings.
his favorite thing, to hide
his face when he sings.
Of figures that lurkbehind the mask in streetscapes
stark, no one dares ask.
Figures lurk in theShadows of falling colors
That create a mask.
The only time "masks"are peril is if they're worn
to hide deep shadows.
She wore the best mask,the mask that masked her dark masks
with the look of truth.
"Truth, was it?" she murmered."I can't even remember!"
The mask, must be changed before
the line of lies and truth blurs again.
Like tropical sunswere her irises, and he
her devoted pupil.
The woman's pupilWas in awe at her beauty;
She knew it was love.
They are in disguise,Lost to my ignorant self,
Curses or blessings.
Flowing from one mouthComes both blessings and curses
Blessing is a curse.
The beauty of deathIs a blessing to weary
Souls that want relief.
What was a heiferto do? Unable to scowl,
the cow made a moue.
How far could the arch-bishop of a medieval
episcopal see?
This burning question
led Wilfred to major in
primatology.
Wilfred monkeyedAround the subject too long
To get perspective.
Every perspectiveseemed askew, whether bird’s-eye
or a worm’s-eye view.
The worm's eye stew,was still a brew.
The smell made him sick.
Went to bed early
And dreamed of poisonous worms
Gazing, hollow worm eyes.
And dreamed of poisonous worms
Gazing, hollow worm eyes.
Creepy, was how hisdream was described.
He's now tired of seeing eyes.
His all-seeing eyes saw me see saw Sam's stewed worms
sod, worm-eyes and slime.
Slime waits for no man,he doesn't like the present,
fleeting he flies.
He’d have been a pairof ragged claws but for frayed,
endless hems and haws.
"My name is not Mrs Hooker" frowned the teacher
"Please call me Mrs Haws"
Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company!
Books mentioned in this topic
Mugging the Muse (other topics)The Raj Quartet (other topics)
Marcovaldo (other topics)
Invisible Cities (other topics)
Confessions of a Taoist on Wall Street (other topics)
More...
Authors mentioned in this topic
David Payne (other topics)Thomas Merton (other topics)
Robert Payne (other topics)
Barbara Gowdy (other topics)
David K. Reynolds (other topics)
Eaters scrambled, feared
as the ghostly waitresses
sung "Route 66."