
If our pets knew what
We humans were really like,
Would they choose to stay?
Blast from the Past:
Strapping boys end up
Mensplainers set in their ways.
Disappearing men.
The Cracked Door – Daily Haikus
Reflections on life, the world, and society. Come explore with me.

If our pets knew what
We humans were really like,
Would they choose to stay?
Blast from the Past:
Strapping boys end up
Mensplainers set in their ways.
Disappearing men.

The boy saw his laundry
That his mom handed to him.
He lounged for his favorite shirt,
But she said, “Keep it clean.”
“But I want to wear it.”
“If you wear it now, it will dirty again.
You must keep it clean as long as you can.”He ran to his room
And put his laundry aside,
And looked at the shirt on his chest
Evidently becoming dirty.
To keep them all clean,
He knew what he must do,
Waltzing into the hall
Knowing that
He’d never wear clothes again.
Blast from the Past:
Brains are like lettuce:
Both go bad if I do not
Use them frequently.

Roses are red.
Hip hip hooray.
I started this poem
Before I know what I’d say.
Another version:
This rose is red,
But you should bend it,
Cause I started this poem
Unsure how to end it.

Some days you have time
To think up a great haiku,
Others this must do
Blast from the Past:
This is the haiku
That never ends. Keeps going
On and on… Oh wait.

// A Java Haiku
public static void
haiku(String cheese) {
System.out.print(cheese); }
Today, I felt like writing a haiku in Java. It’s a programming pun, based on the common word “string” in programming lexicon but also the idea of string cheese.
Blast from the Past:
‘ Haiku in Basic
print(five_word_sentence$)
print(five_word_sentence$+ ” and then”)
print(five_word_sentence$)

I wish I had a
Button I could press to end
All the traffic sounds
Blast from the Past:
A quintessential New York moment:
Cross the street. A car
Whips around the bend, honking
Like I am to blame.

Henceforth: no more light
At the end of the tunnel.
Budgetary cuts
Blast from the Past:
In a land flowing
With milk and honey, why am
I stuck with the curds?

Rugged pointillism
Imprinted onto my feet.
I must sweep my floor
A blast from the past:
Day of presentations,
Interviews, followed by
Total exhaustion