conceived and constructed by たいとしはる tai toshiharu
The Lion Sleeps Tonight


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 282nd. week

To a soprano singer, on the edge of her little finger, leather clothing put.
To make there no rambling, in the beginning, to make the heaven and the earth.
A woman in monochrome, to walk along with, under vermillion sunset.
To indicate, I'm charging me, while sitting down on my heels.
My middle finger is, to wondering over and over, on the edge of your belly button.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 08:48 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 281st. week

On the tube, both of two girls, falling love I'm.
Sailing off the coast of, of crocodile, a child wearing leather made from.
Evening has come, I got three, five examinations left.
In a crevice, between a piece of potato and, vermilion you can find.
Of bottle gourd, on an opposite side of the room, the shadow can reach.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:55 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 280th. week

With my right‐hand man, to the other side of La Seine, to across.
With their children, putting on up the stairs, dogs food.
A warning is, sounding a mild day, on Sunday.
With her teeth black a married woman, and the tongue over there, smiling a friendly.
The Summer has gone, an odor of mold runs, the days also.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:38 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 279th. week

Of Pont Mirabeau, a posthumous child, to see yesterday.
Against the moon with his back, on his tiptoes running, a male goes.
Putting on aslant, grilled meat balls on three sticks, so lonely it seems.
To have turned a blind eye to, with her fingers, ahead a cigar.
A solution to there is, of an utter stranger, on the canvas.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 11:10 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 278th. week

A woman cries, a telegraph pole bending, and shakes.
A movie director does, to hold his camera, grow grow grow bigger he cries.
At the early evening in this summer, to peel a plaster off, it licks there.
The party's over, on the opposite lane, a bus goes.
Also no umbrella I have, thunder rolls, free time I get.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:43 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 277th. week vol. 2

Five persons there are, me and Osamu, and others.
A cockatoo chirps, a play within a play it takes, to favorable to me
Foaming white breakers, a girl who forget to outbloom, the lovely scarlet florists’ daisy she is.
Of younger her sister, to carry on my back, to get something off her chest.
To become a promoted silver, in the shade of a big tree, a one-eyed kid there is.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:31 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 277th. week vol. 1

Of common beans, to peel off the skin, running away without our seeing.
By fortune-telling on the street, forgetting to smile, without her face because of.
On sixth anniversary of his death, knowing when to quit, praised I am.
How hItting the mark it is, his left hand's shivering, to apply eyewash to.
Rescheduled in case of rain, even if it's not, the same case comes.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:29 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 276th. week

Playing peekaboo, toward the tip of it's leash, a dog disappeared.
One of the pigs, by it's right forepaw, siesta it has.
At a long stretch of, only alone left behind, how funny face she has.
On the waterline of, to foam the waves, like a merrymaking it is.
On the end of this month, starting with, in bed a sexual performer.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:30 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 275th. week

So lonely, holding my guitar, tight as a girl.
My enthusiasm to be killed by, to support softly, for my breaking off.
Two singers there are, their heels to be adjacent to each other, comparing their heights.
Today again, at the castle in Spain, a fool alone.
On the boat, only a skewer of chicken breast, left alone.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:16 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 274th. week

Of a base of the tongue, within a day or two, showing his two-faced.
Put up their umbrellas, forming a line, on Jigokubashi (a bridge to the hell).
When the wind blowing, on a denim sleeve, red wrinkles there are.
Folding origami, to make the word "No" (it means hesitation), to put in the fire.
Typhoon has come, with a knife, a woman standing in her hand.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:04 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 273rd. week

At short summer night, like an Un-Sleeping Beauty, I am.
On your legs, as a frog, some electrodes putting on.
Innocence what is, putting yellow t-shirts, children are laughing.
On day before yesterday, my hairline along the neck short, on the boat.
The man a scar on his forehead, a bar tungsten made of, it's cool in his mouth.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:03 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 272nd. week

Snow falling in the summer, with five Santa Clauses, having broken an appointment.
At 2 am, by a thin piece of a lemon, to be moved by it's kindness.
Under the weather I'm feeling, clang with a hammer, on Sunday.
A bandage I've boiled, so I'm bored, the night has come.
To rest her cheeks in her hand, no choices there are, the dream has over.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:40 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 271st. week

The bridge washed away, also to reserve and to give a nod, a collection day for.
On the sixth day after his death, a press‐up also, the season of will come.
At the stairs, someone on the bottom of, in the summer he has slept.
On the edge of a pupil, to paint it black, your name.
On it's last moments, to have parboiled, just roots of a cabbage.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:25 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 269th. week

Like a smoke screen, the sounds not to hear, he listens to.
Of my kocher, to exceed the boiling point, on going over the mountain.
Rain showers fall, on today also taking his children along, the scissors grinder does.
To sober my up, a woman stretching herself out, reading the lines on her palm.
A wash‐line pole, before rain falls, yawns.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 08:58 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 268th. week

By a dry rainy season, having too much time on our hands, looking up at the sky.
Speaking of her, to remain as us passing each other, how many years have.
A load off my mind, continue to be now, my shoulders are stiff.
From the front to the back to paint, cannot to balance out, the night has come.
At the lower right of, under an advertising pillar, a margin there is.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 08:45 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 267th. week

The dead you were, the moon looking up, a blue blue moon.
With my little sister, of a double helix, falling down.
On a rainy day, to make a tea, before five minutes.
In sorrow, to scoop up by my right hand, star sands in.
In August, her widow's weeds to take off, and show her smile.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 08:40 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 266th. week

Against the light, to put off her gingham, showing to the long-leg.
Making high‐pitched tone, of the aged turning round and round, it turns away from his hand.
Of the boys, to keep holding their hands, shouting under the dark.
At dead of night, during turning over the leaves, a white tongue comes.
For odorigui, holding their sides with laughter, but I left alone.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:09 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 265th. week

Before summer comes, a day for hanging out futons in the sun, sweating. Or, before summer comes, a day for hanging out futons in the sun, working so hard.
On waiting for the tram, a man sitting next to, to cause my hey fever.
To sprain my, like abyss for me, a station platform there.
A crab if I were, for a doe of red-haired, to shave her face.
At his socks, to find in different colours, an orphan scoffs.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 08:56 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 264th. week

Of spin‐drying, waiting for to end, on folding my arms.
At a funeral hall, their shoes not to be lined up, a sign of getting moldy there is.
To get the military currency, dancing chakapoko dance, white dogs are there.
After an ambulance car, a child running to go, on Sunday.
Unwanted, to bite her remains, on a way today.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 11:28 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)


Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 263rd. week

Of warm jet, at an outlet, the rainy season begins.
A statesman also, going to the bathroom, to read a letter.
At a noodle restaurant, talking about my justice, the golden age is mine. Or, at a noodle restaurant, swindling as if justice, the golden age is mine.
A raccoon dog, like old‐fashioned blues, singing.
In a disposable shopping bag, same as a freshly severed head of, to weigh.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:33 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

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