failed haiku A Journal of English Senryu Volume 5, Issue 60  bryan rickert ‘Failed’ Editor www.failedhaiku.com @SenryuJournal on Twitter Facebook Page 

   

 

Photo by: Jenny Oreström Poem by: Kerstin Park

   

Cast List In order of appearance 

(all work copyrighted by the authors)  

Bob Lucky Diana Webb  Marilyn Ward Scunthorpe Caroline Giles Banks Ronald K. Craig John Hawkhead Carol Raisfeld Tom Bierovic Srinivas S Eva Joan Ingrid Baluchi  Roberta Beach Jacobson Susan Bonk Plumridge Christa Pandey William Scott Galasso Gabriela Popa Lauren McBride Robert Witmer Wilda Morris Christina Chin and Michael Hough Christina Chin 

   

Minal Sarosh  Teiichi Suzuki Taofeek Ayeyemi Elaine Wilburt Neena Singh Wieslaw Karlinski Robert B McNeill Oscar Luparia Jackie Chou Eva Limbach Barrie Levine  Natalia Kuznetsova Chad Lee Robinson  Sandra J. Anfang Paul Beech Marilyn Ashbaugh  Mary Stevens Rick Jackofsky Gil Jackofsky Benedict Grant  Laurie Greer Thomas Tilton Irina Guliaeva Antonio Mangiameli Kristen Lindquist 

   

Anna Cates Chen-ou Liu Nika Christine Wenk-Harrisong Ed Markowski Gautam Nadkarni Tia Haynes Cynthia Rowe B.A. France Michael Morell Aaron Barry Lew Watts and Tanya McDonald Joanna Ashwell Maxianne Berger Riham El-Ashry Jackie Maugh Robinson Michael Henry Lee Michael Rehling Maureen Weldon Bruce Jewett Jacob Hess E. L. Blizzard Dorothy Burrows Terrie Jacks Rich Magahiz 

   

Tracy Davidson  Ronald Scully John J. Dunphy Keiko Izawa Mark Forrester Genevieve Wynand Isaac Ofori-Okyere David Gale Esha Sharan Michael Henry Lee Oluwasegun Oluseyi Adesina Valentina Ranaldi-Adams Richard Tice Cynthia Anderson Louise Hopewell Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo Colleen M. Farrelly Mike Gallagher  Adjei Agyei-Baah  Glenda Cimino Suraj Nanu Susan Farner Debbie Strange Maureen Virchau Kat Lehmann 

   

Peter Jastermsky Benno Schmidt Douglas J. Lanzo Alexander Jankiewicz  Lori Becherer Terri French Nadejda Kostadinova Agus Maulana Sunjaya Bill Kenney Pitt Büerken  Lucia Cardillo Mark Gilbert Carmen Duvalma Kath Abela Wilson Sarah Elizabeth Schwartz John Green Robbie Porter Jack Galmitz Elisa Allo Eufemia Griffo Madhuri Pillai  David Oates Tomislav Maretić Maeve O'Sullivan Billy Antonio 

   

Charles Harmon Marietta McGregor Rosa Maria Di Salvatore Arvinder Kaur M. Shane Pruett Vijay Prasad Maya Daneva Helen Ogden Réka Nyitrai George Schaefer Kathleen Tice Lori A Minor Dorothy Avery Matthews Jill Lange Sondra Byrnes Susan Burch     

   

Thanksgiving potluck the turkey and vegan turkey side by side   Hanukkah a miracle if anyone can find a match   masked carolers I drop my guard and open the door   Christmas Eve making out under the influence   Bob Lucky        

   

 Chirpy  

 Passport expired it's stay at home time this year perhaps forever.  

crumb to crumb trajectories of house sparrows    Diana Webb        

   

   

Halloween horror the ghost has no mask   power cut the menorah reflects on children's faces  Christmas decor... Grandma fights with a six footer   Marilyn Ward Scunthorpe    

   

winter winds in my driveway three Xmas trees  Epiphany fishermen sit by holes in the lake  World Aids Day   a full page ad for Viagra  New Year’s party my lover’s wife brings flowers   Caroline Giles Banks    

   

after the toys are broken cardboard box  holiday gathering mom and dad watch last year’s video  remembering Pearl Harbor dad’s deployment  postponed   Ronald K. Craig  

 

   

  

   

halloween afraid to try on different masks   Christmas party mirrorball light dances round an empty room   John Hawkhead   

   

Christmas eve – she finds her gift under the Santa suit  grandma's fruitcake re-gifted eternity to eternity   during the holidays... grave digging will be done by a skeleton crew   Thanksgiving dinner  old uncle Oscar yammering he hates sweet potatoes   Carol Raisfeld    

   

employee lounge  Santa unbuckles between shifts   threadbare lap  the mall Santa's velour pants    Tom Bierovic    

   

sky-debate... fireworks respond to fireworks  2020 costume party the attendees appear as themselves  louder  than the conversations the silence afterwards   Srinivas S 

   

Christmas cookies -   the scales sighs devotedly  in advance     Christmas market -   this year between closed booths   only glistening wind  winter-weary -   the year dies away  quietly     Eva Joan 

   

pardoned for what  the turkey asks  ... for living?  .  harvest festival . . .  mantis in church  also praying  .  looking grim  their last year’s plastic Santa  still climbing    Ingrid Baluchi  

   

Christmas package the point of no return to sender  January 1st tossing yesterdays to the wind  mismatched farmhouse Thanksgiving --  chipped dinner plates   Roberta Beach Jacobson  

   

ginger snaps to dunk or not to dunk in my tea   Susan Bonk Plumridge    

   

Thanksgiving chairs for the departed separate the living   trendy Christmas matching COVID masks    Christa Pandey  

   

Day of the Dead  not a single trick-or-treater  comes to the door  Toys for Tots marines in dress blues rescue Christmas   William Scott Galasso   

   

  Gabriela Popa     

   

January bills still using Christmas stamps   Lauren McBride   

   

Christmas cheer boisterous carolers singing Silent Night  the apple of my eye our office party's Christmas Eve  Christmas play the eight-year-old wise man nibbles his chocolate myrrh  Chinese New Year she remembers the character for home  halloween party goofy grins at wonder woman   Robert Witmer  

   

   

deflated plastic Santa on neighbor’s lawn my mood   Grandma didn’t bake mince pie this year I give thanks   Wilda Morris  

   

A Holiday for Blues  everything just hurts this morning all the music says rejoice take a walk along a snowy path we don't always get a choice twinkle lights and heavy traffic turn the sound off all the news take a walk along a roadside just a holiday for blues s'posed to be it's just a color… I know, I wear it every day now it colors our emotions…getting us to feel this way talk to me about tomorrow first let's just get through today take a walk over a bridge maybe make a wish and make a way  a lit candle  by the window  beside an empty chair   

Photograph and Prose by Michael Hough Christina Chin - Poem 

   

long nights  a lit Advent candle for you  twinkling  the kitty ready to claw ornaments   winter solstice I practice chopsticks on nori rice ball   Christina Chin  

   

lockdown christmas  how will father put up  the star alone ?   Minal Sarosh        

   

street lockout--   ghost isolated in jack-o’-lantern    Teiichi Suzuki  

   

New Year morning father hitting the back of an old radio  end of year savings I managed to save my life  cross-border sale looking around for an interpreter  grandpa's hands on father's shoulder family album   Taofeek Ayeyemi 

   

Christmas Eve—   blinking lights   on a headstone   Epiphany—   after the dream,  a new way home    Elaine Wilburt 

   

row of candles outside the temple— the light within  this Diwali  silent—no firecrackers  just the stars  hennaed* hands the jingle of red bangles await the moon  the old potter sells earthen diyas**  the streetlight flickers  *hennaed-intricate design made on palms by applying the paste of henna leaves. On 'Karva Chauth' festival in India, women pray for the long lives of their husbands by fasting during the day and break their fast at night by viewing the moon through a sieve. It is considered auspicious to wear bright clothes, red bangles and apply henna on their hands.   **diyas-oil lamps usually made from clay with a cotton wick dipped in oil for lighting. On Diwali, candles and diyas are lighted to signify the victory of good over evil. Deepawali or Diwali means rows of lighted diyas.  

  Neena Singh 

   

Wieslaw Karlinski 

   

Thanksgiving re-purposing the jack-o-lantern  New Year's Day alka-setlzer moon dissolving  Thanksgiving on Zoom the joy of crazy uncle on mute  Christmas neighbor and I exchange  waves   Robert B McNeill 

   

   

empty mind… carving the pumpkins  my inner smile  finally it’s snowing… a white and sweet veil on the pandoro (°)   (°) Pandoro is a traditional cake from Italy, most popular around Christmas and New Year. It is served dusted with vanilla-scented icing sugar made to resemble the snowy peaks of the Italian Alps. 

  Oscar Luparia  

   

learning patience one ornament at a time tree decorating   Christmastime our Shih Tzu in designer garb  All Soul's Day they say I look  just like dad   Jackie Chou  

   

Holy night the brilliance of a dying star  driving home for christmas me and my doubts  Epiphany in my calendar first edits   Eva Limbach 

   

'twas the night before the family zoom and all through the house . . .   annual Christmas letter  on and on about what never happened   hanging the wall calendar  we take on  twelve new cats    Barrie Levine     

   

the local drunk caroling to a stray dog ... first star  New Year's dawn - streets littered with wrappings and lost intentions   Natalia Kuznetsova    

   

cricket dusk-- skeleton lovers embrace  in a field of screams   early snow-- the pumpkin wears it  on its face   Day of the Dead  the smell of fresh dirt  in the candlelight    Chad Lee Robinson    

   

Christmas pinnacle the cats bat a tinfoil ball around the kitchen   Sandra J. Anfang   

   

Samhain…  silently the pallid waif   dissolves  with a smile   nightfall the pumpkin peddler bags his cash    Paul Beech 

   

midnight mass super spreader  Zoom holiday the dysfunction  goes viral  grandpa talks recipes  from the anarchist’s cookbook Zoom with the grands  a bug-out bag in every stocking  preppers Christmas    Marilyn Ashbaugh  

   

Christmas lights  one multicolored deer  in the herd   Christmas candles  the shape  of last summer’s heatwave   new year  a pressed Santa suit  circles the dry-cleaner's rack    Mary Stevens  

   

looking back my twenty-twenty hindsight   Rick Jackofsky 

   

Day of the Dead Santa Muerta slips through The Wall   Gil Jackofsky  

   

Halloween  a few more demons to keep me company   Benedict Grant    

   

Christmas morning a homeless man wakes up under a tree  Christmas-- more jingles than bells  holiday shopping her haul of holly   Laurie Greer 

   

dashing through the liquor store mall Santas  red nose Grandpa slurs his toast   Thomas Tilton 

   

quiet new year pulling an empty pram   Irina Guliaeva  

   

the curled leaves of prumelia - Christmas   Antonio Mangiameli    

   

Thanksgiving rain the unending stream of holiday ads  squirrel drey the places we call home for the holidays  first night we let the champagne go flat   Kristen Lindquist  

   

a “vegan demon”  reveals her new tattoo . . .  Tofurky   

CASANOVA  After distancing, he and I stage a get-together . . .   He puts me to work, dehulling black walnuts.  holiday pies . . .   waiting for the moonrise  Mars and Venus 

  Anna Cates 

   

All is calm, all is bright the We Just Did 46 hat on my snowman's head  Silent night ... the robo-dog and I in the tv light  false dawn no more Trump briefings added to New Year's to-do list   Chen-ou Liu  

   

   

   

Black Friday prayers for peace forgotten   Nika   

   

a pumpkin smiles at a frowning pumpkin— the son’s planned visit  Halloween nor’easter the scarecrow falls off the wagon  old election signs a faded plastic candy cane leans left   Christine Wenk-Harrisong  

   

Thanksgiving  a vagrant praises  the comfort of his jail cell  contact tracing  a paper mask mutes  the red of Rudolph’s nose   Ed Markowski 

   

Nursing The Blues   This was years before the Corona virus pandemic of 2020. Diwali holidays were upon us again. College was closed for about a fortnight after the midterm examinations and I was hell bent on having a good time. Even if I had to kill in the process.  I spent the first few days of the hols doing something I just couldn't do otherwise. Namely going to bed early and not getting up till late. Like lunchtime. The logic was very simple. By skipping breakfast I hoped to knock off some of the excess blubber that had accumulated around my midriff. I seriously considered skipping lunch too. But mysteriously enough I lost not a single solitary gram. It's a pity that weighing scales these days are no longer what they used to be.  I also loved to sit in my bedroom and play the Blues like they ought to be played. Very loudly. Until there were bitter complaints from the neighborhood kids that they couldn't hear their firecrackers burst. One just had to empathize with them. What could be more soothing after all than the bang of a cracker. Subsequently I listened to Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf with earphones. I figured that at least the fireworks wouldn't make me deaf. Fortunate.  I read a lot too. Especially modern classics. But oddly enough after reading just a few pages in bed I would drop off to sleep. I attributed this to the relaxing effect of the books. Even novels of crime and violence. Finally, after a few experiments I switched over to something more to my taste. Comic books. I found Tintin and Asterix intellectually ever so stimulating. And then the fortnight was up and the holidays over.  

   It was only when college started that I really could appreciate the holidays gone by. How nice it had been to sleep on a soft comfy bed with the blanket pulled right over my head. As against sleeping in a sitting position on a hard wooden bench during lectures on mathematics.  physical training.. . again the gym instructor pats his potbelly 

  Gautam Nadkarni  

   

2020  Easter basket chocolate eggs and a mask  drowning out the fireworks  ambulance sirens  trick-or-treat the candy bowl never filled  Thanksgiving passing back-and-forth our no’s  sugar plum dreams all the friends my children pretend to have   Tia Haynes  

   

his Berber rug gift deep in the wool I find bark  and strange fruit bits   fallen pine needles a Christmas beetle crawls beneath the door   Christmas lily his gift opened early   Cynthia Rowe  

   

government lockdown the introverts own holiday  nana's cookies made from the scribbled recipe ...without nana  righteous reasons to stay in on new years ... again   B.A. France 

   

Thanksgiving – more than one turkey shows up for dinner  unemployment line all the mall Santas out of a job  hungry squirrels – my carved pumpkin gets a face lift   Michael Morell    

   

santa-red thong the naughty list getting longer  trick-or-gluten-free-health-snack   Aaron Barry   

   Nuttin’ for Christmas    Dairy Queen santa  icky things  in his beard    in trouble for sipping  Grandma’s eggnog    Christmas Eve dinner  the corndogs Mum pocketed  from the local buffet    giving the present  another shake . . .  no Legos    hand-me-downs  gray stains on the jammies    epic snowball fight  viewed from the bedroom window  chicken pox    

  Lew Watts Tanya McDonald

   

discarded parcel gold ribbons billowing in the wind   holding the light a tree-line still shining    Joanna Ashwell  

   

Christmas 2020 knots in the pines coming undone  family tradition the silence as my sister makes the Jell-O fart  cell transmitters flounced around the steeple season’s greetings   Maxianne Berger  

   

cooking a big meal new dresses and decor empty chairs   Riham El-Ashry    

   

buyin three punkins one to entice tricksters two for just desserts   Jackie Maugh Robinson  

   

no place like home  daylight savings an extra hour of shelter in the doorway  black friday the soup kitchen breaks all previous record  advent... still waiting  from last year  silent night murmuring outside the cold shelter  seconds to midnight blowing a kiss to the moon    Michael Henry Lee  

   

   

   

hanging  a single bulb on a norfolk pine covid christmas   Michael Rehling    

   

shamrock on St. Patrick's Day her tear of longing  Easter Old Head of Kinsale cead mile failte   Maureen Weldon   

   

giving of thanks for the quarantine  no dirty dishes  my elderly aunt at thanksgiving dinner tallying the dead  holiday dinners red caps on one side blue caps the other   Bruce Jewett   

   

watching it as an adult— Isle of Misfit Toys   Jacob Hess    

   

The Making of a Pandemic Holiday   Finding the box behind the unused Halloween decorations, I feel sneaky . After a clandestine drag to the living room, I open the box. Following the diagram, I jam sticks in their holes. My daughter walks in and looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. It’s a look she’s recently revived from her early teenage years. “What are you doing?” she asks. “Putting up the Christmas tree.” “But Mom, we never do that until after Thanksgiving.” “Traditions change and now we have time to make homemade decorations,” I reply. She rolls her eyes and walks away. She’s brought that back in style as well.   this boredom breaking rules anywhere I can find them 

    E. L. Blizzard  

   

Boxing Day - gloves on, I face yesterday’s dishes  this year’s blessings - without carol singers silent nights  left out in the cold - this year’s mistletoe   Dorothy Burrows 

   

Thanksgiving   cooking all day relatives pour in the front door   they come they eat they leave   cleanup time leftovers, dirty dishes  i wash alone   schlepping  for what… family fun?   Terrie Jacks  

   

reactor control drops the ball party horns blare  receding glow the red-nosed lifeform   Rich Magahiz  

 

   

Santa's grotto  the reindeer take a liking  to my Rudolph mask   Christmas Eve  my son asks Santa  to sanitise his sleigh   Chinese New Year  replacing rat with ox  in the oval office     Tracy Davidson     

   

estranged sisters assigned to shill peas count their blessings   after the game all bets on the wishbone older brother 9 to 1   Ronald Scully   

   

Christmas Eve fireplace crackling with 'easy assembly' instructions   New Year’s Day my champagne glass bubbling with Alka-Seltzer   New Year's Day I'm awakened for breakfast by a stranger   John J. Dunphy   

   

vacation trip  memories fade so fast  on the bullet train  new year’s argument the toasting rice cake  bursts  christmas dinner feeding my cat premium tuna  champagne toast an old woman watches the bubbles disappear   Keiko Izawa    

   

a small child all her ornaments hung on one branch  her red pen marking each payday before Christmas   Mark Forrester    

   

lebkuchen my grandparents' word  for love  silent night faces frozen in Zoom  stuck in Germany real candles light the evergreen   Genevieve Wynand  

   

a day before Christmas my rooster gives its last crow  on Christmas eve I mistaken Gyidie Kokoo worshipper for Santa   Isaac Ofori-Okyere   Gyidie Kokoo is a Christain religious sect in Ghana where its worshippers dress in all red. 

   

all jaws and teeth at your front door Halloween pumpkin  a sad song plays out in the subway three days to Christmas   David Gale 

   

New year resolution Googling gym close to my Favourite bakery   Esha Sharan  

   

 Michael Henry Lee   

   

watch night service thinking about the fried meats  the sermon seems so long   Christmas in days  very few chickens  now roam the streets    Oluwasegun Oluseyi Adesina      

   

I have the legs  for trick-or-treating . . . spider veins  holiday game score -   eighteen pounds of turkey to zero prayers   expectations under the mistletoe . . . a candy kiss   Valentina Ranaldi-Adams   

   

not expecting  trick-or-treaters we buy  fine chocolates    Christmas skit  in Korea—I play  a giant radish    Richard Tice   

   

Hallelujah Chorus  forever and ever  holding back tears  my mother the elf  every year in our stockings  a brand-new toothbrush   holidays alone— the calm that comes from staying at home   Cynthia Anderson   

   

midnight kiss the fireworks in your eyes   new year’s day my empty diary awaits the story   alone under  the mistletoe  empty stocking   Louise Hopewell      

   

just a dream above the roof night of stars  the lullaby my mother sang to me Christmas wind  turn of a year in a snowball my wishes   Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo     

   

cornucopia  at the family table—  the nuts fall out   a wisp of cloud  shrouding a full moon—  the sky's banshee    Colleen M. Farrelly    

   

unreachable holiday shadows  pedal west   Mike Gallagher                     

   

Halloween over a child's courage to touch jack-o-lantern's teeth  Independence parade waiting for the president  in someone's fart    Adjei Agyei-Baah    

   

alone for Christmas every bauble on the tree reflects your image   Glenda Cimino                   

   

building rapport on the boundary wall diwali lights  leaves off  the ghost writer halloween   Suraj Nanu    

   

17 days ‘til  Christmas  still mowing   white lights connect  to LED colors  blended family  December night her santa still lights his window   Susan Farner  

   

   

   

   

Debbie Strange 

   

grateful for elastic waistbands Thanksgiving  pandemic Christmas a child asks Santa for a vaccine  Thanksgiving dinner the scent of turkey and politics  pandemic Christmas a distant memory of bustling crowds   Maureen Virchau 

   

winter rain we decorate the tree with paper snowflakes  pandemic stroll I catch my breath on a peppermint   Kat Lehmann   

   

giving thanks for just one day stuffing the complaints   family news after the headlines a Doom call   regifting . . .  a box of silence  that never empties   Peter Jastermsky  

   

To the Sea and Back    holiday song on both sides of the highway colorful wildflowers   the house where we spent every vacation sold to a young couple   taken home in the huge mason jar a piece of the sea    Benno Schmidt     

   

explaining to kids how Santa’s sleigh flies with full COVID gear  store Santa’s relief no kids within six feet to pull his beard   Douglas J. Lanzo                

   

Inside a Christmas Tale  It’s a bitterly cold evening during the week of Christmas. We’re sitting together to enjoy the annual ritual of watching It’s a Wonderful Life. We find our cozy places and get all snuggled in. The apple cinnamon candle is burning and the tree is lit. The snacks and drinks are ready. The kids are scattered on the floor.  We start an innocent conversation about which version we like more— the original black and white or the colorized one. I listen as my very old aunt’s voice goes on and on. I begin to drift with my stomach about to explode after eating too much dinner. I unfasten my belt and let life take its course. My eyes begin to close on their own.  twilight dreams  under a blanket of snow  a tree log sleeps   I see myself walking around a strangely familiar town. I feel a sense of panic but don’t know why. I begin to recognize places from my youth. I stumble in and out of doorways. I hear a voice cry as it becomes my own.  “Mary! Mary!” I begin to yell as I find myself pounding on the doors of the library where my wife now works. No one answers from the darkness inside.  Turning around, I see my childhood home with our Christmas decorations lit up. I cross the empty street.  I walk into the kitchen through the back door. I smell my mother’s cooking in the air and expect to find her in the pantry. No one is 

   there. I notice empty bags of assorted junk food and empty bottles of soda strewn on the counters and dirty floor.   “Mary! Mary!” I hear the name being called out from the living room.  I walk through the kitchen and find an extremely obese woman sitting in my mother’s chair. I could sense, somehow, that in her youth, she must have been a very beautiful woman. I see her throwing Twinkies at the television. I become aware that nothing in the room has color except for It’s a Wonderful Life playing on the television and the burgundy rose petals blanketing the floor. Children are hovering around scavenging food through the petals. I ask the strange lady why she’s sitting in my mother’s chair when no one but my mother sits in that chair. Even after her death, no one has sat in that chair.   My disorientation becomes overwhelming when the woman turns towards me.  “Mary! Mary!” she yells, “Run, Mary, Run! Don’t let him catch you! He doesn’t deserve you!” The woman looks directly at me with a face of scorn.  I know she’s talking about me. “She’s running away from George Bailey, not me!” I exclaim.  “But you are George!” “You are him!” The woman snarls back.  “She’ll just break your heart in the end, my dear. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you always,” she says this in the most gentle, most sincere voice imaginable, “Now give us a kiss,” she continues, then, suddenly, her voice changes to its snarl again, “and go clean my kitchen!” 

    “You’re crazy! That’s what you are! This is some sort of a funny dream! What...are you a hypnotist?” The words coming out of my mouth seem too familiar. I say them without any control.  I stand frozen as I watch the woman turn her attention back to the TV and yell at it.  I finally shout over the volume, asking who she is. But she doesn’t answer. The children hovering about immediately stop their scavenging and begin chanting in unison while skipping in a circle holding hands, “Aphrodite, Aphrodite, Aphrodite,” their chanting becomes louder and louder each time.  The picture on the television flickers and then is filled with snow. Out of nowhere, Kevin Sorbo dressed as Hercules, but speaking in Walter Cronkite’s voice, appears on the screen and addresses the woman:  “Aphrodite, is that you? Junk-feeding your face while shouting orders at  mere, mortal servants to adjust the antenna on your TV set for better reception as you sit in your favorite chair and nag nag nag?”  Kevin Sorbo then smiles and winks at me, stating, “And that’s the way it is.”  In another flicker, he’s gone and the movie starts playing again.  Bells begin to ring... growing louder and louder. The sound becomes deafening. Aphrodite begins to weep uncontrollably. The children have all huddled into a corner while covering their ears and weep as 

   well. As the bells continue to ring, Aphrodite and all around begin to fade, except for one small child still weeping alone. I walk towards him to offer comfort. When I see his face, I realize he’s me.  I suddenly awake to my wife asking me if I’m alright. She tells me I was having a bad dream. I glance at our TV and notice every one singing Auld Lang Syne.  “Honey, I deserve you, don’t I?” I mumble without even thinking.  My wife just gives me a puzzled look.  a child's cry in a corner shadows wake 

  Alexander Jankiewicz    

   

Christmas decorating the trees fill with blackbirds   Thanksgiving treats the cat smells of fish   pumpkin field the ripening of Halloween   grade school concert the smallest kid the biggest drum   Lori Becherer            

   

     

   

Ever green  Growing up we always had artificial Christmas trees. In the ’60’s it was the aluminum tree with the rainbow spiraling light beneath. A little trippy. In the ’70’s a huge “snow” flocked blue spruce filled the corner of our living room. I don’t ever remember having a real tree. They say you can’t miss what you’ve never had and I guess I didn’t. As long as the tree had presents under it on Christmas morning it was fine by me. But my paternal grandfather thought otherwise. “Those girls need a real tree!” So he loaded my little sister and me into the back of his Bonneville and off we went to the Christmas tree lot.   riding shotgun a beautiful sight . . . snow in the headlights  My grandfather was a truck driver and on the road a lot. When he was around I just remember him smoking cigarettes, drinking beer and snoring in his La-Z-Boy. It was an odd treat for my sister and I to spend a couple hours alone with him. We meandered through the maze of freshly cut trees. They came in all shapes and sizes. I breathed in their piney scent—so this was how Christmas was supposed smell! Grandpa picked out a seven-foot Scotch pine with a straight trunk. The man tied it to the rack on top of our car and we took off for home.  stopping for a six pack all is merry and bright . . . gas station neon  Once home, mother ordered us to set the tree up in our semi-finished basement—where my sister and I often played—because she didn’t 

   want the needles stuck in her new shag carpeting. Away from the other trees, ours didn’t look nearly as majestic and it had already lost quite a few needles on the drive home. But grandpa assured us it just needed a little extra tinsel to fill in the bare spots. Then he left and my sister and I did what we could with some old ornaments and several boxes of tinsel. When we were finished we called mom and dad to come and look at our masterpiece. My dad just shook his head. “All dressed up like a dime-store hooker.” I didn’t know what that meant but it got him an elbow in the ribs from mom.  fa la la la la a strand of tinsel stuck in the dog’s butt  The next morning I ran down to the basement to see how our tree was faring. The tree-skirt was coated an inch-thick in bright green needles. The shiny bulbs and silver tinsel hung from naked branches. “Noooooo!” I hollered, which sent mom, dad, my sis, and the dog scurrying downstairs. Dad walked over and scooped up a few needles, rubbing them between his fingers. “This tree has been spray-painted,” he said. “Grandpa got you girls a deader than dead tree.” Mom swept up the mess then sent dad to fetch the old aluminum tree out of the attic to put in its place.   learning the truth I tell the mall Santa I’ll pout if I want to 

    

   

Christmas Eve— in every raindrop the hope of snow  New Year. . .an old grievance carries over   Terri French      

   

Christmas eve this year making more angel cookies  holiday shopping getting exhausted from browsing   Nadejda Kostadinova                      

   

new year's eve  in this cheap motel room  my shadow and I   we keep arguing  the last argument new resolution   Agus Maulana Sunjaya   

             

   

laid off -- a Halloween ghost on his lawn  Veterans' Day an old war movie in black and white  Christmas Card list a few more names to cross out   Bill Kenney            

   

Christmas on her own  the children wave in front  of the old-age home    Pitt Büerken      

   

Christmas lights ... despite face mask the eyes still sparkle  luci di Natale … brillano ancora gli occhi / sulle mascherine   Lucia Cardillo   

   

Christmas morning she starts to call the turkey a he  Halloween party. I go as myself.  Christmas morning sliding cufflinks through purple fabric   Mark Gilbert 

   

Christmas day – the old pain  left in a candle   through the steamy window the lights of the fir tree – Christmas night    Carmen Duvalma   

   

childhood christmas santa and his wife slow dance before the kids wake up  halloween hideaway we both turn into pumpkins  lockdown new year our resolve to make kigo cocktails   Kath Abela Wilson  

   

my daughter waits for Santa scans the crystal sky and google street view  this holiday season I'm thankful I won't have to wax   Sarah Elizabeth Schwartz  

   

at Thanksgiving   with relatives from Texas we find common ground none of us can digest corn  in the mail another one of her holiday jams— liquid, fragile, perishable and potentially hazardous  Santa Lucia Day— the smell of burnt hair  Christmas trip— our cat leaves her present on our bed  holiday flurries realizing I am the drunk uncle   John Green  

   

Casting off    The old woman sat in her chair and knitted, just as she had always done. Her mother had showed her how, just like she’d shown her own daughter. ‘Push it through, pull it under and over….’ This was a scarf, for her granddaughter. It was Grace’s favourite colour, special for Christmas. ‘Pull it back and up….’ She was nearing the end; the ball of wool unfurled next to her. ‘Slide it off.’ They found her the next day, scarf neatly folded in her lap.    grandma’s funeral-  the lavender silk threads  catch the winter sun  

  Robbie Porter 

   

Black Friday and just think we're all dying   Jack Galmitz   

   

the old year folded with care in a suitcase  eight of December decorating the Christmas tree ... video call  memory box sewing up forever  new fragments   Elisa Allo   

   

Christmas past tying our memories with old ribbons     Eufemia Griffo 

   

Christmas house guests... from one meal to another to another   summer holidays ... gulping down food laced  with grandma's lectures    Madhuri Pillai                 

   

the way to town blocked by the Christmas parade – Jesus!   on the diner counter an abandoned pie slice New Year’s Eve   David Oates   

   

Halloween – the pumpkin on her window resembles our neighbor   smoking jack-o'-lantern a drunkard ask him for a light    Tomislav Maretić    

   

working from home a barmbrack bought on Monday yields a ring on Friday  All Saints’ Day: a small superman costume on the barrio balcony  New Year’s Eve ringing in the first fatherless year     Maeve O'Sullivan  

   

holiday rush scroll tap scroll tap add to cart  COVID Christmas masquerade every character  in mask   Billy Antonio  

   

Happy Fathers Day Genghis Khan and his seven thousand kids  New Years Eve drinking songs no one remembers the words   Charles Harmon    

   

midnight carols eldest boy’s voice just breaking  sugared almonds under the tree one stolen kiss  Christmas night between the sheets a riot  of glitter   Marietta McGregor    

   

Christmas... nothing but the stars tonight  the new moon... the innocent smile of a Baby   Rosa Maria Di Salvatore   

   

thanksgiving day - the rocking chair empty this year  shelf dust ... grandpa's sepia photo behind the greeting cards  mother's saree - i drape her fragrance for this year's party   Arvinder Kaur   

   

anti-maskers the belligerent faces of jack o'lanterns  covid holidays the turkey refuses  to concede  mistletoe santa's little helper winks at me   M. Shane Pruett  

   

sitting  alone with myself ... sudden joy   Vijay Prasad  

   

New year’s concert the sound of my son’s piano in so many living rooms  a Thursday morning only Alexa responds to my “Happy Thanksgiving!”   Maya Daneva 

   

from gratitude to grabitude— Black Friday  picking up where I left off New Year’s resolution  hostage to our joy we tie the tree to the roof of the car   Helen Ogden  

   

rye bread with liver spread... rainy Christmas   new year's mist the resolutions I won't keep   Réka Nyitrai  

   

Festivus greeting is it happy or merry? bitching either way   futbol match on screen 7 AM English Mild quickly quaffed    George Schaefer  

   

winter afternoon taking down the tree you didn’t see  lingering taste of bitter long after the last bite of sugar-free pumpkin pie   Kathleen Tice 

   

Christmas slush the roll of her eyes when I mention suicide  begging for forgiveness Easter lilies   

Silent Night  Soon I will be no more than a distant memory to my family. The kind of memory that only haunts you on birthdays and Christmas.   poinsettias the dark roots of childhood 

  Lori A Minor 

   

holiday prep... she starts by scrubbing  the fridge top   Dorothy Avery Matthews   

   

I’ve spotted  the perfect pumpkin—  in someone else’s cart  cats just don’t get watching the ball drop on new year’s eve   Jill Lange  

   

for some this is only thursday-- overcast sky  thanksgiving leftovers all the things we didn't  say  sidewalk buckles from the family tree-- thanksgiving dinner   Sondra Byrnes   

   

Christmas tree lighting up my daughter’s smile  candy-cane getting sticky with it  Christmas lights – I wish I could turn off my red nose   Susan Burch  

   

From the editor:  4th of July the immigrant’s flag bigger    Thanksgiving sharpening a carver for my in-laws  Christmas alone I unwrap a Big Mac   I would like to thank everyone who submitted to this special holiday themed Failed Haiku issue. I was hoping it would be a fun way to celebrate the holidays during these times when many of us will not be seeing many family and friends.   I would also like to extend a special thank you to Michael Rehling for allowing me the opportunity to start as co-editor of Failed Haiku. It feels great to be a part of this exciting senryu journey.   Bryan Rickert ‘Failed’ Editor 

editor@failedhaiku.com (all work copyrighted by the authors)