Haiku Showing 7,851-7,900 of 8,460

[Lee]

Behind the closed door she
sat, very confused.
"What to do, what to do?"

[M]

“I’m out,” she sighed, “of
love, of vino, of any-
thing maraschino.”

[Lee]

I can't follow that one M.

[Erin]

She sat, She waited
For something, For everything
Perhaps, for nothing

[M]

(Sorry, Lee!)

Eyeing the faded,
blood-spattered paint, she, gasping,
suddenly felt faint.

[Jane]

Only seventeen
Her face bespattered with blood
She got even bud

[M]

She raised the window,
unlatched the screen, and stood there,
only seventeen.

[Jane]

She took the hacksaw
And the knife, and cut the man
Who ruined her life

[M]

She dumped his body
from the old quay, and, smiling,
put the knife away.

[Jane]

He floated nicely
On the tide. Crabs bit fingers
Seagull ate his eyes

[Guy]

[Lol! So funny! Oops. Sorry. That was undoubtedly an inappropriate response.]

[Jane]

Guy wrote: "[Lol! So funny! Oops. Sorry. That was undoubtedly an inappropriate response.]"

Not at all. My posts on this thread are really not meant to be taken seriously

[M]

Now he had hair loss,
shrinking abs, not to mention
a case of the crabs.

[Jane]

The crabs caught him
Deep surprise. Crustaceans
With blood in their eyes

[C. J., Cool yet firm like ice]

"Having crabs' awful!"
the scratching man said. His pal
offered to buy one,
...but that's not what was meant.

(Sorry I know it didn't follow the sequence at the end but I had to, lol!)

[M]

His soul, after such
strife, sought the Crab Nebula,
a strange afterlife.

[Guy]

Twas nebulous,
chasing life in dwarf stars
bronzed in white cement.

[M]

He bought insurance,
protection against fire or
astral projection.

[Jane]

His nebular crab
Was right up for grabs, or did
It fall from a slab

[M]

His downward spiral
slammed on the brakes! Now wealthy,
he markets crab cakes.

[Rachel]

Crab cakes in cafes
A taste far removed from the
Old scavenged roughage.

[M]

We ate crab later
at Candle Inn. Our waiter
played a mandolin.

[Lee]

He played the mandolin.
singing lines in mandarin
We were all confused.

[M]

Good one, Lee!

[Lee]

Thanks M :)

[M]

Fortunately, we
were in the mood for Chinese
Italian seafood.

[Lee]

We ate in glee, then
paid and thanked the man,
he didn't seem to understand.

[M]

Something resembling
a legume spelled our gastro-
intestinal doom.

[Jane]

It was floating in
something red. That smelled like blood..
Was the legume dead?

[Guy]

Was it a legume,
or the illegitimate
child of a has been?

[M]

(Been with a British accent, of course!)

Disgusted, he eyed
the loathesome thing. “I should have
gone to Burger King.”

[Jane]

Soorry. Got a brain worm

A poet was feeling so screwed
That he tore all his papers in two
The dread seventeen
Was turning him green
Coz he just couldn't write a haiku

[Guy]

[Omg so funny! And a great reminder for the lymeric thread!]

[M]

5-7-5’s he
wrote with ease, and left haiku
to the Japanese.

[Lee]

Japanese people running around,
pens and paper in hand,
sourcing haiku translations.

[Guy]

[Lol!]
The ink was well deep,
Poised below the brush in hand
Trees with birds rested.

[M]

Whether in London’s
Olde Wine Shades, or cypress gloom
of the Everglades,

uncorking fine wine
was their way, a life au verre
or à la bouteille.

[C. J., Cool yet firm like ice]

The grape had pondered
its life, was sorted; live like
wine or be uncorked!

[Lee]

"Better to like wine,
descendant of the vine
Than to be in-genuine."

Quickly he scribbled the rhyme
line by line, hoping
to be done in time.

[Lee]

(Happy New Year Everybody!!)

[Guy]

[LOL! Very funny Lee and CJ, and very clever, M.

Thank you Lee, and to you also!]

[M]

Lee has posted the first 5-7-5’s of the New Year! Hmm. How to follow them?

Many descendants
of the vine bore a cryptic
zodiacal sign.

[Lee]

Cryptic indeed were the signs
leaving them all confused
but for awhile.

[Guy]

Words lost in the crypt
were found in writers' script,
stripped of clothes and ripped.

[M]

(I’m reminded of a book it’s long past time for me to reread: Priscilla Johnston’s gorgeously written biography of her father.)

Old lore’s time stitchers,
world menders, dwelled in counters
of long descenders.

[Lee]

I'm not sure how to follow that one M.

[M]

Just throw something out there, Lee!

[Lee]

They were stitchers by profession.
Not by love or obsession.
They were just descendants.

[C. J., Cool yet firm like ice]

Pretty great, Lee!

[C. J., Cool yet firm like ice]

The ghosts told stories
'bout witches: for some reason 't
left them in stitches.