Kukai 3—Mardi Gras & Ash Wednesday Haiku

Global Haiku Tradition--Haiku Attempts 3, Spring 2005

cold, wet ashes
upon the little girl's brow
she cries

spring fed river
on the banks
we sit and wait

warm sunlight
sitting in the bleachers
staring into the empty field

droves of drunks
piling into pubs
one bites my shoulder

dust
you shall return
she cries

behind Shilling Hall
a girl sobs
next to the Bronze Man

mass insurgency
battle cry
more beer

stirring baby
now fast asleep
bottle and mood cools

gold, green, and purple beads
around the necks
of drunk soccer moms

the toned black cat
on its back
life is a fake mouse

deep inside the easy chair          spiderman

Sunday morning service
watching the nails
in Jesus’ aching wrists

he walked into school
for the first time in years
with ashes on his forehead

finally
sitting on the couch
the buzzer goes off

girls bathroom
she washes the ashes
from her forehead

winter darkness
forehead aches
with love

masks all around
searching the crowd
now where is she

child screams at dirt
on man's forehead
ash wednesday

somber hymn . . .
Sunday dress
on Wednesday

forty
days and nights
of purity

Mardi Gras
what happens there
stays there

Wednesday evening
ash and hymns
lost to the frescos

a look of concern
Ol' Roy rests his head
on my lap

tv ads
girls flaunting sadly
last page of Salinger

memory
of dark ashes
tickling my nose

ashes on her forehead
avoiding the stares
of curious classmates

Ash Wednesday
funeral service
I wonder what to wear

weeks after the game
the chalk
gives the game play

cold breeze
colorful mask floating
down the empty street

no call in weeks
we need some space
walking alone

stretching to be taller
catch the beads
thrown by masked faces

cotton candy high
mom holding back
as I run ahead

fading sun
burnt nose
neck full of beads

sarcastic smile
at the refrain
from food

police car
handcuffed woman inside
green light

little schoolgirl
touches her face
ashy fingertips

smile
can i walk home
with you

the young mother
waltzes time
across old floorboards

on the road
we talk about
where we've been

rearview mirror
mardi gras beads
dance year long

blowing out the candles
wish
for one more year

heart pounds
I gave it up
for Lent

open door
on Bourbon Street
I succumb to it . . .

hunched in the corner
white robe clings
to skin and bones

young girl catches
a punch in the mouth
parade rages on

Mardi Gras
alone,
I expose my breasts

beads for boobs
all around me
Is this Heaven? 

the Illini win
by six
Fat Tuesday

Lenten farewell,
licking chocolate off
fingertips

standing up above
I throw myself
at the beautiful women

razzle-dazzle
rosary of baubles
clutches in bunches

with thumbprints
we all share
god's love

calm reflection
midweek
ashes to ashes

two weeks after Easter
the smell leads us
to the missing egg

some girl
takes off her top
for plastic beads

smothered in beads
girls dance
in the moving convertible

whispering pew
two children fight
over who’s more dirty

moonlit sky
I drift to sleep
still angry

old friends reunite
pretending
nothing has changed

I glance beyond the flowers,
seeing them kiss
in the churchyard

moonlight shining
stillness
I watch her dance

breasts, rightie and leftie
exhibited freely
we turn our heads

sign of the cross
i walk the aisles
of empty worshipers

excuse me
drink Spilled
“MAN”

Sunday’s best
ashes to ahses
dawn to dusk

the most beads
can’t just give ‘em up
let's see ‘em ladies

cheap beads
against bare skin
sparkle sparkle

got to get away
       just some fresh air
hot summer

fishing with my family
at night
all of the stars

late night
conversation slipping
through cracks

men and women
old and young
ashes unite them

looking up at mom
wondering
does he really forgive

looking into his eyes
black dust
forgiven

warm by the fireplace
a chill fills the air
presence of a lost one

what to do
what to say
wish it were a dream

at recess
all the kids comparing
ashed foreheads

construction-paper heart
covered in glitter
the young boy blushes

crown cake
purple, gold, green
my turn to serve


© 2005, Randy Brooks • Millikin University • last updated: February 11, 2005
All rights returned to authors upon publication.