Monday, June 28, 2010
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Haiku are a form of Japanese poetry that are written in three lines with a syllable count of five, seven, five. But don't let that stop you writing whatever you like. There are no fascists here and any contribution you wish to make is welcome. Here we seek the sublime, and if we can't have that, we'll just have a laugh. It's all good.
With the current picture as your inspiration, pile in to the comments and have a go. At the end of the week I pick five and put them on the front page.
As the Japanese say - Let's enjoyment haiku!
what a blessed relief
that on seeing this agility
nothing but a smile arises.
years of diligence,
meditative yoga, so
I can see my heel.
wherever she goes
feted like a superstar
world Twister champion
and now coiled like a spring
waiting to go BOING!
"Help! I'm Stuck! Can't move!"
"Don't worry I shall free you,
but, um... not just yet..."
with absolutely no effort
the center piece of the sculpture
Quocunque Jekeris Stabit
Or Mr Terre’ Blanche?
A somewhat convoluted effort.
Yeah but it was worth it just for 'living triskelion'. And Su, I'm glad you took on the duty of being the designated grown-up. Somebody had to do it...
fuck nobody i have just fucking thrown my toys out of the cot in the village pub over israhell.
everyone of the fuckers in this village think that israel and the jews are the same thing, and that isreal is a weak nation under threat.
i kneed someone in the balls, threw a drink at someone else and when someone came over to make peace told them to fuck up.
so if i was an adult somewhere today - well that is a surprise.
and i know this is the haiku site but i have just returned home pumping righteous indignation. in the pub was the ex british head of parole.
he has retired here.
i asked him about the lies of mainstream media and Hollie Greig and he said he had never heard of her. the fucking head of british parole.
ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. fuck if only i could get into that position.
Sorry mate, Saturday was busy with yoga and I didn't get down to the library until 4.45. Instead of going in I sat outside. There I wrote you a reply, hit send, and -bingo!- the wifi had clicked off and it was gone.
Anyway, what can I say? If I'd been there I'd probably have been cheering ha ha. I ain't shy and if a friend gets in a stoush I'll pile in. But then I think of the Buddha and you know...
Always such dilemmas.
For me that sort of instant let-rip fury came from being a motorcyclist in a world of cars. I smashed off mirrors, kicked door panels, hit people - at 80km/h! I was fucking fearless. I actually used to shock people into silence by daring them to drive their cars into me. "Do it! I fucking dare you! And if you ain't going to do it, shut the fuck up. I'm sick and tired of car drivers who think I'm scared of them. I ain't. I been knocked on my arse plenty of times and all it ever did was make me fighting mad. Now stay 2 seconds off my arse or I WILL see you at the next set of lights and I won't be nearly so polite."
In the end I gave up motorcycling. Um... is there a message in this story? Probably not. Twenty years of motorcycling though... I do recall absolutely loving it. Never mind, I only ever so vaguely miss it now. Sorry I'm just rambling now so I'll stop.
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