Haiku Monday Resist Results

You haiku ku kuers don't make it easy, do you? No, you do not. There was something to love about each and every one of your efforts to cover the topic—whether from a political, personal, or . . . architectural?—point of view.

Before I outline my favorites, I'd like to once again thank the newbies for jumping into the fray. We've upheld this meme for, what, two years now? I'm not sure. But let's just say it's been an awfully long time, and there are those of us who still miss its founder, wherever he may be (making the world unsafe for Democrats and Black-eyed Peas listeners, most likely).

At any rate, Island Rider and Magical Mystical MiMi, welcome! I hope you continue to play.

Oh, and thank you to Aunty and to Blazng, both of whom arrived late on the scene and yet posted some very resistance-worthy haiku.

So, starting at the top and working down:

von LX declined to be included in the competition (most likely because he is busy swanning about Germany and having a richtiges gutes Zeit mit viellen Bier trinken WITH OUT US!), but, hey, how awesome is the word kakistocracy? Please, y'all, go forth and use it in a sentence at least once this week, okay?

Likewise, Ms. Fishy always conjures up many brilliant turns of phrase. This time around, Whimperors of Self. A great big Bill and Ted's Adventurous whoa to that one.

Serendipity, who must be the most awesome aunt EVER, made me chuckle with the image of her poor nephew trying to explain his cargo of frozen elk to a TSA agent.

Ms Becca always produces such lovely and evocative musings that speak to a rich and contemplative imagination.

As for Chickory, perhaps, as Czar points out, my sistah from anutha mutha. Certainly, there are very few people on this planet who share even a portion my particular (peculiar?) politics and she is one of them, as well as a most excellent example of why the political must be personal, and that true change starts with the individual, not the power structure.

Which is why I also really loved Magical Mystical MiMi exhortation to rattle our cages. Uh. Yes.

Fishy again, with "those are not bombs, those are breasts!" That seriously needs to be on a t-shirt.

I very much enjoyed Island Rider's deftly spun odes to empty nesting—one bittersweet, one humorous.

Señor Karl, someone with whom I could also easily share a foxhole, always hits just the right note of skepticism blended with optimism and can probably MacGyver his way into or out of just about any situation, including under the water and 10,000 feet up in the air.

His:
New home drone contract
.95 billion / 5 year
For your protection.

is a really cool haiku.

Then there is Czar, with whom I share absolutely no politics, but who does understand my love of late 1970s punk vis-a-vis the grit that was once NYC, so we're even. Did he appeal to my vanity this go-round? You betcha. And nearly snagged the win.

But another of his buddies snatched victory from his clutches.

And that would be Fleurdeleo with:

His narcotic scent:
orange groves on a Turkish sea.
Married now! Defriend?

Yes, I know that orange should most likely be judged as two syllables but in some parts of the country, it is one: orn-j. And, besides, if we take out the word "a"—not a significant omission—the haiku still makes sense and we can pronounce the fruit or-ange. Does that make sense? I think I'm on solid ground here . . .

Anyway. What won this for me was that second line. Dang. I'm a sucker for anything scent-ual, and those seven little syllables instantly encapsulate everything I need to know about how this man intoxicates. And the third line of course says everything about how those kinds of memories can latch themselves into our brains like a pit bull with a tennis ball. Sweetie? Yes. Defriend.

And host next week, por favor!

Thank you all for playing, and mmmmmmwah!