“64 + 6” haiku

For great musicians
It’s as if notes become flesh
See: Paul McCartney

60 Gold Records
Hundred million albums sold
As many singles

“Yesterday” covered
More than any other song
Imagine that, John

But numbers don’t tell
Story of Paul McCartney
Only music can

And oh what music
Orchestral scores, movie tunes,
Electronica

Collaborations
And prolific solo work
Maybe I’m amazed

Wings piled up hits, too
Good for a band on the run
12 #1 discs

And oh yeah yeah yeah
There was that earlier group
John, Paul, George, Ringo

Did they change the world?
Or just reflect the changes?
Who cares? They’re perfect!

Called Paul the cute one
And he was that, but much more,
Of course, musically

Those killer bass lines
From “She’s a Woman,” “The Word”
To “Dear Prudence,” “Rain”

Acoustic guitar
On several White Album cuts,
“Yesterday,” “Michelle”

Electric guitar,
Too, including the solo
On George’s “Taxman”

And the voice, the voice
Scream and shout “I’m Down” or croon
All those great ballads

But even for Paul
Life wasn’t perfect — lost
His mum at 14

The birds flocked to Paul
He made music with a few
A nest with Linda

But cancer took her
Far too soon, leaving a void
Then a rough marriage

Hope he’s happy now
‘Cause he still sounds great, still works
For some fine causes

The awards pile up
And tributes will keep flowing
He deserves them all

Forget yesterday
Rockin’ 70 today
Happy birthday, Paul!

“Don’t look down” haiku

“Don’t look down” haiku

Walk the line between
Clarity, insanity
A man, a wire, falls

With borders guarded
Crossing can be tough, but this
Is ridiculous

1896
Last time the Niagara Gorge
Traversed on high wire

Now Nik Wallenda
Of famous flying family
Will take that long walk

End a Wallenda?
Wire humor is all gallows
No pratfalls allowed

End of Wallendas?
No, even if Nik did die
Family would go on

Following footsteps
Fatalist’s folly also
Family foundation

Following footsteps
Wallendas sound like Nike
Saying “Just do it”

Speaking of sponsors
ABC will televise
Hoping you’ll tune in

Disney’s owner says
There’ll be no death — Live! — on air
Nik must wear tether

But what if Nik sheds
His safety harness midway?
He’d like to, you know

He’s walking at night
So if he makes some mistakes
We just won’t notice

Crossing Niagara
Dark, alone, on a drenched wire
What will it feel like?

Fear, terror, longing
For the other side, to feel
Earth beneath his feet?

No, Nik Wallenda
Is a different kind of man
Mostly nuts, all guts

Walks the line between
Lunacy, serenity
A man, a wire, falls

“What’s your desire” haiku

This evening only
A solar system near you
Venus in transit

Heavenly body
Makes pass between Earth and sun
But don’t look! Don’t look!!

Telescope filter
Or special welder’s glasses
Needed to save eyes

Otherwise do what
You always do these days — watch
On the Internet

Won’t happen again
Till 2117
So don’t miss this one

1639
First transit that was foreseen
By Horrocks, Crabtree

Horrocks, a student,
And Crabtree, a cloth merchant
Did own star studies

Independently
They used Keppler’s sky tables
To predict transit

Transit helped figure
In 1769
Solar system’s size

This time, astronaut
From space station will capture
Transit from orbit

Seems so easy now
But let that heighten, not shrink,
Our sense of wonder

“And he won’t mind if you spell his name backward” haiku

June 1 is the birthday of Bob Walkenhorst, a fine singer and songwriter, and a pretty darned good painter, too. Best of all, he’s a wonderful person. I wrote these a year ago.

For Bob Walkenhorst
Painting the scenes of our lives
In brushstrokes and notes

What to say to one
So entertaining, so true?
Happy birthday, Bob!

The head Rainmaker
Making music, making friends
In KC for years

Singer, songwriter,
Guitarist, drummer — plays mean
Harmonica, too

He writes the best songs
Surprising, clever, touching,
Funny — so human

And you know when it’s
Bob singing, one of a kind,
Though he covers well

Yeah, Bob does Elvis,
Van, Mick, Lennon, Dylan, Hank,
Fogerty, the Boss

But no one sings Bob
Like Bob — nobody else can
It’s just that simple

He’s done it for years
With bands and friends, or solo,
And just gets better

When he gets on stage
He makes us feel he belongs
To us — quite a gift

Happy birthday, Bob!
Here’s our ears, and hearts, gladly
Given in return

June 1 haiku

1926
Star who will be Marilyn
Makes her first twinkle

Born into madness
Dies in loneliness, despair
In between, magic

In ’67
The Beatles get serious
With Sgt. Pepper’s

Rock stars turn artists
Tap all that’s within them
Music ever changed

1968
Helen Keller breathes last breath
Of unique journey

Deaf, blind, not yet 2
Alphabet unlocks genius
To inspire the world

June 1st, quite a date
For magical history tour
Birth, release, passing

Highku

Twenty-nine thousand
Thirty-five feet above sea
Everest rises

Called Chomo-Lungma
Mother Goddess of the Earth
And a bitch to climb

George Leigh Mallory
Tried often in the ’20s
Why? “Because it’s there.”

George Leigh Mallory
Died trying. We’ll never know:
Did he reach top first?

Then Tibet was closed
To outside expeditions
From the Northeast Ridge

Nepal opened up,
’49; intrepid treks
Resumed from the south

Ice, rock, blinding wind
Siren song’s frozen notes lured
200 to death

Peak experience
Punching a hole to heaven
Up beyond the clouds

Two-thirds of the way
Through Earth’s atmosphere, closer
To something divine

1953
Two conquered — and made it back
Into record books

Kiwi beekeeper
And Himalayan Sherpa
On top of the world

Edmund Hillary,
Tenzig Norgay on this date
Climbed Mount Everest

“I think I can do the dance number, but I’m not so sure about my horse” haiku

John Wayne, born Marion Robert Morrison
May 26, 1907 – June 11, 1979

Not a boy named Sue
But a guy named Marion
Was born on this date

Hardworking and tough
Football player got a job
On a movie set

Director John Ford
Fed him ever-bigger parts
Breakthrough in “Stagecoach”

“Tall in the Saddle”
For years that described John Wayne
Cowboy Western star

Two-fisted hero
And (spoiler!) “The Man Who Shot
“Liberty Valance”

Classics “Red River”
“She Wore a Yellow Ribbon”
And “Rio Bravo”

No one said “pilgrim”
Quite like the Duke; laconic
Became iconic

Cowboy turned warrior
In “Sands of Iwo Jima,”
Other combat films

Returned to Westerns
“True Grit” Oscar, “The Shootist”
Died with his boots on

Happy birthday, Duke
John Ford was right to bet on
That guy Marion

“Across the styles” haiku

Written last May 26. Includes Levon Helm, who you probably know died April 19.

Another crazed batch
Of birthday folks hatched today
From jazz to opera

There’s Miles Davis,
The birth of the cool, just one
Of his jazz styles

Bebop and hard bop,
Modal jazz and fusion jazz
Miles pioneered

He was “Kind of Blue”
And drew us “Sketches of Spain,”
“Relaxin,’ ” “Workin’ ”

Like the Pied Piper
Miles blew a magic horn,
But his led to life

Teresa Stratas’
Instrument? Soprano, matched
Only by her heart

She sang opera, yes,
And Broadway, too; her “Showboat”
Was like no other

Kurt Weill’s widow gave
Stratas songs no one else had
— And her voice owned them

Stratas sang it all
Fearlessly, flawlessly with
Punk intensity

Retired, she helped
The poorest among us, joined
Mother Teresa

Heartbreak and mystery
Play muse to this sorceress:
Pop queen Stevie Nicks

Her Fleetwood Mac days
Wove witches and dreams into
Hypnotic hit songs

She conquered demons
Of her own, to keep sharing
Her dream songs with us

The band “The Band” played
Funky and loose, often thanks
To Levon on drums

Levon Helm, his mates
Backed Dylan and then made their
“Music From Big Pink”

Great albums followed
Till the Band’s “Last Waltz” and then
Levon’s solo work

Levon Helm’s back beat
And back-country vocals kept
Their own unique swing

He’s still rocking on,
Winning awards, releasing
New songs and CDs

From “traditional”
To “matched,” drummer’s changed his grip
— But never lost it

“Step up to the plate” haiku

1935
May 25th, the day Ruth
Launched his last homer

Babe was almost through
But not that day — 4 for 4
Three out of the park

Played hard, lived harder
Seven hundred and fourteen
One had to be last

A trickster word, last
Agonize to make things last
Then it is the last

Make every one count
Games, days, laughs, loves, breaths, touches
One will be the last

“Rosie strikes back” haiku

Rosanne Cash was born, if my arithmetic is right, on Bob Dylan’s 14th birthday. And though it’s ridiculous to compare artists, I find her best stuff among the most beautiful and powerful I’ve ever heard — as Dylan might say, right on target, so direct. Happy birthday to an amazing talent.

Rosanne Cash, May 24, 1955

It seems there’s no end
To Rosanne Cash’s talent,
Courage, honesty

Johnny’s daughter, sure
But so much more — a writer
Of bottomless depth

From country chart hits
To confessions of terror
As love struggles, dies

Delicate beauty
Heartbreaking like a teardrop
Just about to fall

Courage? Or no choice
But to face all the feelings
Life brought to her heart?

No matter, she faced
It all, spun it out for us
In dozens of songs

From “Interiors”
Through “Black Cadillac,” she put
Her pain on display

Life took her apart
Many times — divorces, deaths
And brain surgery

She unflinchingly
Put herself back together
Extraordinary

She keeps creating
And helping some fine causes
Her story goes on

Here’s to Rosanne Cash
Courageous, she writes and loves
A woman in full