> >Jewish Haikus
> >*****************
> >
> >Hey! Get back indoors.
> >Whatever you were doing
> >Could put an eye out.
> >
> >A lovely nose ring --
> >excuse me while I put my
> >head in the oven.
> >
> >In the ice sculpture
> >reflected bar mitzvah guests
> >nosh on chopped liver.
> >
> >Hidden connection --
> >starvation in Africa,
> >food left on my plate.
> >
> >How soft the petals
> >of the floral arrangement
> >I have just stolen.
> >
> >My nature journal --
> >today, I saw some trees and birds.
> >I should know the names?
> >
> >Like a bonsai tree,
> >your terrible posture at
> >my dinner table.
> >
> >Beyond Valium
> >the peace of knowing one's child
> >is an internist.
> >
> >Jews on safari --
> >map, compass, elephant gun,
> >hard sucking candies.
> >
> >Firefly steals into the night
> >just like my former
> >partner, that gonif.
> >
> >Coroner's report --
> >"The deceased, wearing no hat,
> >caught his death of cold."
> >
> >The same kimono
> >the top geishas are wearing:
> >got it at Loehmann's.
> >
> >Today I am a
> >man. Tomorrow I return
> >to the Seventh Grade.
> >
> >The sparrow brings home
> >too many worms for her young.
> >"Force yourself," she chirps.
> >
> >Jewish triatholon:
> >gin rummy, then contract bridge,
> >followed by a nap.
> >
> >"Can't you just leave it?"
> >the new Jewish mother asks --
> >umbilical cord.
> >
> >The shivah visit:
> >so sorry about your loss. Now
> >back to my problems.
> >
> >Scrabble anarchy
> >after putzhead is placed on
> >a triple word score.
> >
> >Our youngest daughter,
> >our most precious jewel. Hence
> >the name, Tiffany.
> >
> >Mom, please! There is no
> >need to put that dinner roll
> >in your pocketbook.
> >
> >Seven-foot Jews in
> >the NBA slam-dunking!
> >My alarm clock rings.
> >
> >Lonely mantra of
> >the Buddhist monk: "They never
> >call, they never write."
> >
> >The sparkling blue sea
> >beckons me to wait one hour
> >after my sandwich.
> >
> >Concert of car horns
> >as we debate the question
> >of when to change lanes.
> >
> >Testing the warm milk
> >on her wrist, she beams; nice, but
> >her son is forty.
> >
> >Is one Nobel Prize
> >too much to ask from a child
> >after all I've done.
> >
> >Sorry I'm not home
> >to take your call. At the tone
> >please state your bad news |
