I’ve gotten this several times now, and you probably have, too.  But can we risk that you have not?

 

Here they are, 17 syllables apiece, 5 – 7 – 5.  I have taken the liberty of highlighting a couple of the most important ones:

 

Hey! Get back indoors!

Whatever you were doing

could put an eye out.

 

Testing the warm milk

on her wrist, she beams -- nice, but

her son is forty.

 

Lovely nose ring --

excuse me while I put my

head in the oven.

 

After the warm rain,

the sweet scent of camellias.

Did you wipe your feet?

 

Wet moss on the old

stone path -- flat on my back, I

ponder whom to sue.

 

·        Today I am a

·        man. On Monday I return

·        to the seventh grade.

 

Left the door open

for the Prophet Elijah.

Now our cat is gone.

 

In the ice sculpture

reflected bar-mitzvah guests

nosh on chopped liver.

 

Beyond Valium,

the peace of knowing one's child

is an internist.

 

The same kimono

the top geishas are wearing --

got it at Loehmann's.

 

Jewish triathlon --

gin rummy, then contract bridge,

followed by a nap.

 

Would-be convert lost --

thawed Lender's Bagels made a

bad first impression.

 

Today, mild shvitzing.

Tomorrow, so hot you'll plotz.

Five-day forecast -- feh.

 

·        Yom Kippur -- forgive

·        me, God, for the Mercedes

·        and all the lobsters.

 

As always, if anyone knows who actually wrote these, I’d love to give credit where credit is due.  Here are three financial haikus:

 

Winter of the bear.

What fun is there in bonds?  None.

Boy needs some action.

 

Priceline – ice cold ego.

Bezos could have a shot, though

No more big discounts.

 

Stock market deep freeze,

Taxes kept me from selling.

I'm an idiot.