About a month or two ago I had this great idea.
To open up a Haiku Shoppe – kinda like a cafeteria.
I knew they were tasty bits and went real well with beer –
But just how many made a mess was never made quite clear.
There are little ones and big ones but somewhere in between
Exists the perfect haiku – ‘bout like a butter bean.
The best ones, they exist beneath the nibs of poets’ pens.
And maturity comes in stages just as harvesting begins.
Baby haikus are the size of grown up mustard seeds
But when harvestin’ is over, they’re just the size you need
Inside the tiny seed, you see, lies a miraculous surprise.
For instantly this tiny seed grows into eatin’ size.
So if a haiku farmer it is your goal to be
You’d better sit awhile and listen close to me.
Government inspectors soon will visit you.
They’ll ask about your farmin’ and tell you what to do.
There are so many dangers in raising fine haikus
And many varied body parts that you are apt to lose.
I’ve seen and heard some awful things – all were very lurid.
But none as painful as the time I sat on some as they matured.
Written by John Posey