Sunday, March 24, 2013


Shyness death sentence
Polished looking glass pity
Jailbreak illusion

Not to be Reproduced (1937)
by René Magritte

Friday, March 22, 2013

vernal haiku

Discard brown frosty blanket
Bow towards sun's heart

Haikus of Spring
across the street at
recuerda mi corazon,
exclusive home of
Haiku My Heart

photo from random BING search

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

duck soup

Soup of the day: Duck
Waiter! There's soup on the fly
Birds of a feather

Faun, Horse, and Bird (1936)
Pablo Picasso

Friday, March 15, 2013

in the haiku garden

Peas, blue jade, peppers
Bonsai umbrella shaded
No elephant tracks

Haikus unfurling
before your very eyes at
recuerda mi corazon,
exclusive home of
Haiku My Heart

photo: random Bing search

Sunday, March 10, 2013

oxford 0614

"Number please", he heard nasally.
"I want Oxford 0614".
"One four"?
"Yes". The shaggy proprietor of the boat rental shop was giving him the single pop-eye glance as the young fella secretly spoke into the telephone on the far side of the front counter.
"Thank You".It rang on the table by the front door of her seventh floor flat. She was in no hurry. It was a funny ring, the sound of an anxious woodpecker bracing itself and excavating short muffled bursts for a new woodpecker highrise.
"Hello", she laughed.
"It's me. Don't hangup".
"Who? Who's this then"?
"Sir Charles. I spilled the gravy on your expensive white dress".
"Oh. You". Her voice dropped to a level only a submarine dodging depth charges could detect. "Goodbye".
"No. Wait. Please".
"I've decided to kill myself".
"Oh?" She was uncaring, sorting through a stack of mail and postcards right there on the polished cherry table with two drawers. She began to read a postcard from her brother, away at metal ingot fastener training.
"I'm going to drown myself", he repeated forcefully after the line was silent for a minute.
"Take my brother with you", she said under her breath, shaking her head, lips pressed tight.
"Ma'am?". She flinched at being called that. She felt she was too young at thirty-seven to be one of those. He continued hesitantly.
"There's a book in my apartment. William will give you the address. It's too complicated to try to give you directions. On the shelf. It's hollowed out. My money fits snugly in it. You can take what you need to purchase a new dress. Would you send the rest to my poor mother"?
"A book?" She held another piece of mail up, squinting, trying to read the writing inside. She thought maybe it started, 'My Dearest Agatha'.
"To Have Or Have Not".
"Oh, that's clever", she countered, in a thick sarcastic soup.
"Yes", he laughed nervously,"isn't it"?
Charles hung up in a couple of minutes after what he thought maybe he detected as a metallic click. It was hard to tell, with the thumping sound of his heart in-between his ears. 'My Dearest Agatha', he whispered once. He made his way down to the beach, the shaggy man watching from the door frame, a twenty dollar tip in his hand. 'Oh, confound it, I don't need that, son', he'd say. 'I don't either', the young man replied, voice breaking.
He stripped, piled the clothes neatly at a dry distance, and walked to the edge, the waves tender, luring him to enter in his powerlessness, the blue sky like a distant calm ocean. At first he decided to walk in, but after repeatedly falling over after a few attempts, he tried running. Even with a starting gun sprint, he only made it up to his knees and lost his balance. He sat down in the green water, head hung. A wave slapped his back and he thought it never felt so good, like when he was a kid and created waves in the bathtub by sliding to and fro. And his mother would make him stop. She would devour the boy in an over-sized beach towel, soft and warm fresh off the clothes line as he stood just outside the tub. And she would use a cotton-swab to clean out Charlie, the name she would laughingly call out to his bellybutton.

photo: Meal Beach, Burra Isles, Shetland
by Robin Gosnall

Saturday, March 9, 2013

ml haiku

Withered droll smile
Fragile hearty grimace
Inscrutable you

Haikus that'll make you smile
across the street at
recuerda mi corazon,
exclusive home of
Haiku My Heart

Sunday, March 3, 2013

the voyage of the morning star

"I will tell you all. Come closer - as I will not speak louder, my lungs scarred from the salted, I feel no movement of the lips at the present". I leaned forward, dropping my pad and pencil. "I found the ship deserted in latitude 38º 40´, longitude 17º 15´ W. It was silent, all was clear, the vessel had not been through a storm, watertight and good paint, blue deck, the sky too. Below, in the captain's cabin, I found her, Celeste, alive but unconscious, naked. I wrapped her in an Indian quilt I found neatly folded and sun dried, watching over her, deciding my next move. An hour passed. I glanced at the glass case holding the compass and brass chronometer, all seemed accurate. One last search above and nothing. Pacing the quarter-deck, and called to action by the ship's colours rhythmically snapping in the breeze, I started below to carry the woman away. But there she stood, both hands wrapping the cover, her hair matted, a look of horror and shock upon her white face. I went to her, catching her up into my arms as she fainted. Do you mind if I rest? I feel a breath".
"I will get you a glass, John".
"Aye. You're a gentle soul".
I touched his shoulder. He raised his head, recalling.
"Morning Star". He drank three-quarters. I was silent. He rose to leave, but I pleaded for him to stay by touching his arm. He looked at me kindly and nodded.
"I only noticed her marking as we drifted away. Hated to strand a beautiful vessel as she. I was above in the cold, late. Celeste was in and out below, hopelessly crying out, the victim of devilry one could only imagine. There were scattered moments when I cradled warm broth to her lips, and her black eyes shone familiarity. Like a daughter". He turned away and swallowed hard. "Magnetic deviations made my compass useless. Took me awhile to align by the stars and I finally retired, completely exhausted. I awakened by the touch of her small hand upon my cheek. Lost complete track of time. She whispered close to my ear something about dastardly pirates leaving her alone to die. At that very second we heard heavy foot fall above and she put her hand over my mouth".
I had been sporadically admiring a sword and scarlet shield decorated with a tassel of hair, the most prominent decoration of an otherwise damp and drab pub, but turned to him again when he mentioned pirates. His eyes were bright, nearly flooded with tears.
He wiped his mouth and grimaced in pain. "A brave lass. The part the constable never believed. She pushed me back down, taking my revolver and matters into her own. The ball came to rest in the chest of the third man, having blasted large holes out of the first two. Quite an extraordinary shot in the dark, don't you think"?
I swallowed hard then.
"And she stood before me laughing, the gun smoking. The first two went over easy of course, but as I was tossing the man with the ball in his chest, he grabbed me by the throat and we went overboard together, his mouth full of blood. I peeled him off easy enough but", he leaned forward close and whispered, "I don't know how to swim".
I laughed through my nose.
"I took in quite a bit of water." And he was laughing too, struggling to halt harsh coughing. We sat quietly and sipped our drinks.
"Who saved you?"
He began to answer the obvious, but was distracted, looking over my right shoulder towards the front door. He rose from the table and I turned, following his eyes. A beautiful young woman standing about five foot two or three, shoulder length straight sun-bleached streaked chestnut hair, pushed from one side of her delicately freckled face, stood on the lowest cement step down from the door, hesitantly searching the shadowy faces of the debauched and lonely, until she spotted the whiskered face of my companion. I stood as she embraced him, John not sure exactly what to do with his arms.

art: Shipwrecked
by TheFoxAndTheRaven

Friday, March 1, 2013

in like a haiku

Straight up, no chaser
Bar lion's spoiled meat breath
Warm lamb therapy

galore over at
recuerda mi corazon,
exclusive home of
Haiku My Heart
11,041 vagabonds plus:
Free Hit Counters
Web Counters

All original designs and text created by the author of this blog, Phil L., are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike3.0 License. All other materials remain the property of their respective owners and/or creators, unless of course they are part of the public domain.