Iconic actress, great director recalled

Posted on by
Reply

Remembering James Dean made me think it’s time to add a couple of other Hollywood figures to the blog, people who died earlier this year. Speaking of figures, Jane Russell died Feb. 28, and I wrote these March 1:

Goodbye Jane Russell
You made it to eighty-nine
Built to last, I’d say

Goodbye Jane Russell
Time finally ran out for that
Hourglass figure

The great director Sidney Lumet died April 9. He had a long string of excellent movies, many of which are mentioned here. I often don’t write on the weekend, but he died on a Saturday, and I couldn’t pass up such an extraordinary career.

‘Bye Sidney Lumet
You made dozens of stories
Seem so real on screen

The verdict: Guilty
The charge: First-degree genius
In “Twelve Angry Men”

You captured O’Neill’s
“Long Day’s Journey Into Night”
And family hell

Nuclear terror
Led to supreme sacrifice
In Cold War’s “Fail-Safe”

“The Pawnbroker” showed
Some tortured souls must remain
Forever in hock

Lumet, Pacino
With “Serpico,” “Dog Day” proved
Lightning can strike twice

“Serpico” ripped veil
Off of police corruption,
A city’s decay

“Dog Day Afternoon”
A robbery gone so wrong
A film made so right

In “Find Me Guilty”
Lumet made Vin Diesel act
— With stunning results

“Before the Devil
“Knows You’re Dead”: Grim finale
Of petty evil

“Garbo Talks,” “Deathtrap,”
A King documentary,
He could do it all

‘Bye Sidney Lumet
We’d be mad as hell except
Your work was complete

“Don’t burn out, don’t fade away” or “Rebel without a haiku”

Posted on by
Reply

James Dean, Feb. 8, 1931 — Sept. 30, 1955

New York Times obit page, Sept. 28, 2011:
Arch West, Johnnie Wright, Wilson Greatbatch

Three films, fatal crash
Live fast and die young, James Dean’s
Mythic rebel youth

Alec Guinness saw
Death in Dean’s Porsche Spyder
Obi-Wan was right

James Dean, so handsome
So tormented and so cool
What a total waste

Neil Young said better
To burn out than fade away
But he’s done neither

So keep creating
Yeah, I like that plan, versus
The alternatives

Won’t make New York Times
When I go like these three guys
That’s OK with me

One day’s obit page
Strange who passes before us
Slice of life — and death

Arch West, creator
Of the Dorito. Did he
Go out with a crunch?

Arch West, Doritos
Were his idea. Will God
Make more just like him?

97 years
Arch West lived, didn’t just let
Chips fall where they may

97 years
Lived singer Johnnie Wright, too
Kitty Wells’ husband

Had the guts to try
A different beat: Latin lilt
Made “Poison Love” hit

Had the smarts to snag
Ellen Deason as bride, switch
Name to Kitty Wells

And he knew her star
Was brighter than his, helped her
Rule ’50s country

Wilson Greatbatch lived
“Just” 92 years, the pup
Of geezer all-stars

Greatbatch made his first
Heartstopping discovery
Accidentally

Then he figured how
To use that discovery
To keep hearts going

Next he figured how
To make big idea small
To fit inside us

Voila! Pacemakers!
But there was just one problem
Batteries ran out

So he kept working
— You’ll get a charge out of this —
Succeeded again

It’s energizing
How he perfected a cell
To last a decade

He invented things
His whole life, never gave up
On changing the world

So take your foot off
The gas, fire up your brain,
Creative juices

Whatever you’ve got
The world needs right now — and for
A few decades more


Java enabled haiku, or It’s bean real

Posted on by
Reply

Sept. 29, according to someone, is National Coffee Day. Of course, so is May 16. And July 24 is just plain old Coffee Day, falling during Coffee Week. And August is Coffee Month. Sheesh. Not that I don’t love coffee.

One of my first haiku was about coffee, part of a batch of “Recession Haiku” on the Kansas City Star’s business page April 29, 2009.

Ruthlessly spend less
But cut out coffee? I cut
Out your heart first, Joe

Java (with steamed half and half — the breve latte) perked into a Feb. 2 “Buddha made me do these” batch:

We say namaste
To recognize the divine:
A breve latte

The breve brewed again on April 12, in “Half and half haiku”:

The breve latte:
Coffee, half and half equal
Heaven in a cup

Just keep that Equal
Or any other sweet’ner
Outta my latte

Can coffee poems
Be grounds for legal action?
There’s something brewing …

But barista barred
The barrister from Starbucks
No subpoenas here!

My tall tales can turn
Grande, or even venti,
Not good under oath

I would testify
That my waistline’s expanding
From all that breve

But if that’s what stops
My clogged up heart one fine day
I’ll go with a smile

Whole lotta haiku goin’ on

Posted on by
Reply

Jerry Lee Lewis, Sept. 29, 1935

Jerry Lee Lewis
Playin’ the devil’s music
For six decades plus

Lou-zee-anna boy
Married at 16, 15,
14 — Who’s counting?

Elmo and Marnie
Hocked the farm to buy their boy
That first piano

With Jimmy Swaggart,
Mickey Gilley (his cousins)
He played up a storm

Bible school expelled
Him for his Killer version
Of “My God Is Real”

Deaf A&R men
Aren’t new: the Grand Ole Opry,
Hayride turned him down

But he shined at Sun
“End of the Road” was the start
Record grooves on fire

Played piano like
Drums, 88-string guitar
All rolled into one

“Whole Lotta Shakin’,”
“Great Balls of Fire” still stand
Among all-time greats

Scandal derailed him —
As if you’ve never married
Your cuz who’s 13

Jerry Lee Lewis
And His Pumping Piano
Suddenly were shunned

The Killer played on
But for a lot less money,
Seldom on the air

The wives came and went,
Time passed, and he went country
The Killer was back

Outlasted them all
Carl Perkins, Roy Orbison
Elvis, Johnny Cash

The Last Man Standing
Of Million Dollar Quartet
Only good die young

Once more with feeling,
Jerry Lee, I guess we’d still
Take a chance on you

Young 76
What do you bet he’ll make it
To old 88?

Mmm, leftovers

Posted on by
Reply

Most days I’ll try to post something from the past, until pretty much everything is available on this site. Having ushered in fall (today’s original post is right below this one), let’s recall the coming of March, and spring.

March 1

Checked my shopping list
All out of February
Won’t be buying more

Come in like lion
Go out like lamb; so who writes
All this stuff? Noah?

Soldier’s calendar
Gets really monotonous
It’s always March First

No, I take that back
With prosaic drill sergeant
It can be “March Forth!”

“The March Hare will be
“Much the most interesting,”
Or so says Alice

Will the March Hare bring
Some relative sanity
To the Tea Party?

The Hatter and Hare
Tell us it’s always Tea Time
Do they back Palin?

Besides looking glass
We have to go through some hoops
For our March Madness

March 20

The first day of Spring
Daffodils and crocuses
Say it’s bloomin’ time

Spring has sprung today
And that’s nothing to sneeze at
Or maybe it is

The first day of Spring
Soon the bees will be saying:
“Hey buds! Let’s party!”

Spring has sprung today
And April showers will bring
May crabgrass, you’ll see

The bunnies of spring
Are hoppin’, so their babies
Can’t be far behind

“Vernal equinox”
I think that’s the Latin for
“The back yard’s flooded”

Igniting bonfires

Posted on by
Reply

I’ve been writing haiku — or at least 5-7-5 syllable verses — most days this year since late January. I’m starting this blog so more people can see them, beyond the folks I’ve been emailing them to. Is that a good thing? I guess we’ll find out.

Besides my near-daily posts of new haiku, I’ll be reposting batches of haiku from earlier this year, to create an online archive of sorts, heaven knows why.

OK, let’s get this show on the road. You get a quadruple batch starting with today’s offering.

Fall haiku, part 4:

Life’s calendar says
Fall but my spirit says rise,
Reprise spring, summer

My life like the year
Well more than half gone — I can’t
Fathom its ending

My heart still races,
Rages, yearns, aches — can’t absorb
The wisdom of age

Mellow’s not in me
Although my gray hair, lined skin
Foreclose outward youth

But inside, the spark
That makes me who I am leaps
To ignite bonfires

Fall haiku, part 3, from Sept. 27:

Summer’s fire lingers
In leaves blazing red and gold
Proud before their fall

The earth’s ripe bounty
Blesses labor, consecrates
The tabernacles

Bins burst, storing warmth
To fire bellies when winter
Cloaks all in its cold

Late bloomers savor
Their Indian summer but
Know how this plays out

The year, like all years,
Must fall, the victim of time
Inexorable

Fall haiku, part 2, from Sept. 26:

Dudes with doctorates
Say “Autumnal equinox”
I just say “Fall’s here!”

I mean, what “autumns”?
Temperatures fall, the leaves fall
Apples fall from trees

True, pumpkins don’t fall
But neither do they “autumn”
Nothing really does

What’s that? You “autumn”?
“On the islands”? I hope with
Your mom, and grammar

Orange you glad that fall
Dresses in such bright colors
Before winter’s white?

Football brings fall fun —
If concussions, shredded knees
Define “fun” for you

At least marching bands
Entertain at games without
Lots of broken bones

The best sport wraps up
Soon with the true Fall Classic:
Come on, World Series

Then college hoops start
Enjoying them’s a slam dunk
Can’t wait for the Phog

So I just don’t get
Those who want fall over with
Though it’s just started

Halloween I’ll have
Costume right in season: Sears’
Christmas catalog

Fall haiku, part 1, from Sept. 25:

In fall, at harvest time, my thoughts always return to a little village in Transylvania. In September 1991, I was part of a group from All Souls Unitarian Universalist Church that visited our sister church in Galfalva, Romania. The fall of the Ceausescu regime opened the possibility of such sister church relationships, and ours was one of the first — and one of the first to result in a visit. It was quite a trip.

20 years ago
Transylvanian village
A rare pilgrimage

Back in time to roots
Of my faith, a faith rooted
In freedom, reason

On Nyarad River
Villagers opened their arms
Their love overwhelmed

1568
Unitarian faith formed
Before my country

Village church opened
1773
Before the U.S.

The Sunday service
Preacher in Dracula cape
Everyone spiffed up

Sermon praised the land
And the people who worked it
God’s gifts at harvest

We offered our gifts,
Hearts, wish for peace, unity
Across all the miles

Village most humble
People most hospitable
I’ll treasure always