the archives of f/k/a . . .

Frankly, the ides of August have found haikuEsq and dagosan mired in the sloth of summer — poetry has been as difficult to birth as punditry.  To no one’s surprise, however, our energetic Honored Guest and haijin friend Ed Markowski has returned from a haiku vacation as inspired and productive as ever. 

   It’s a lot easier to nap-in-peace with guys like Ed on deck or at bat.  Here are some of his recently-penned one-breath gems:

 
         thunder
           the black lab’s bark descends
               into a whimper

 

 

 

 

lightning
i lose control
of the jigsaw

 

 
               lazy afternoon
                  i even toss the keepers
                    back into the stream

 

 
                           summer night
            two moths flutter down a moonbeam
                          to the porchlight
                         

 

 
summer sunset
   my grandson’s right hand
        popsicle orange

 

 

 

 

             crows
               the buzz of electricity
                 surging through the power lines

 

 

 

 

loneliness
   a fly circles
       & settles elsewhere

 

 

Of course, baseball is never far from Ed’s mind in
summer — and, in this year of the miraculous
Tigers — perhaps even well into fall.

 
little league
   the third baseman
        distracted by his mother

 

 

 

 beer league softball
       a pitch down the middle
              brushes the batter’s stomach

 

 
                                   hazy moon
                  a cloud of dust drifts from third base
                            to the pitcher’s mound     

 

  . . . . by Ed Markowski  
f/k/a’s Baseball Haiku Page is always available, if
you need to connect to your inner shortstop.  You’ll
find a couple dozen baseball haiku and senryu by
Ed Markowski, along with a selection from quite a
few members of the f/k/a Haiku Team.  For example:

 

 

bases loaded
a full moon clears
the right field fence
 
 
 
 
 
the foul ball lands 
in an empty seat
summer’s end

 

. . . by Tom Painting 
“bases loaded” from the haiku chapbook piano practice     
“the foul balls lands”- Modern Haiku 35:2

 

 
empty baseball field
a dandelion seed floats through
the strike zone
 

 

 
score tied
both team jerseys look the same
in the August twilight

             
 
                         . . . by George Swede from Almost Unseen

 

 

behind in the count -
“Skip” spits and stares
harder
 
 
           
 
 
 
 
my nephew’s fastball -
I hand back his glove
and keep the sting  
 
 
 
 
. . . by Barry George
“my nephew’s fastball” -  bottle rockets #11
 ”behind in the court” – tinywords

 
 

sting
of the old man’s
fastball
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
my so-called friends
send in my sister
to pinch-hit for me

         
 . . . by John Stevenson 
 ”extra innings” – Quiet Enough
“sting” – Upstate Dim Sum (2005/II)

 

  yard sign punditry