Dominican haiku

For IC and Imelda Jean, O.P.

Deep in forest of
High shelves, ripe with old knowledge —
Yellowed leaves’ perfume.


  1. My cup is now full.

    That is quite beautiful. On the down side, I may never write again. :/

  2. Angelico Nguyen, Esq., OP says

    … I may never write again.

    Ah, the luxury of superfluity. Enjoy it!

  3. Matthew Lickona says

    OP? You mean “Order of Preachers”?
    The proclaimers? The shouters? The screechers?
    I grant that this haiku
    Sounds very much laik you
    But homilists aren’t simply teachers.

    • Angelico Nguyen, Esq., OP says

      But I answer, let Reason guide Hope:
      Anyone who expects that the scope
      Of our Order’s distillable
      To a seventeen-syllable
      Verse (bless his heart) is a dope.

      • Matthew Lickona says

        A matter must here be addressed
        When The Wife says my heart should be blessed
        What she’s actually saying
        Is “Bless arterial spraying
        As your heart is ripped clean from your chest.”

        • Angelico Nguyen, Esq., OP says

          Her soft words lacerate like a knife —
          Yet even so, maybe The Wife
          Is just being gracious,
          And means you’re vivacious:
          The Blood, after all, is The Life.

  4. Jonathan Potter says

    An old OP was preaching at mass.
    Synapses weren’t firing, alas,
    But that didn’t keep
    The words from, like sheep,
    Straying aimlessly into the grass.

    • Angelico Nguyen, Esq., OP says

      That poor OP’s become an Old Plodder —
      Yet, God willing, we’ll live till we dodder.
      Then will Heaven forbid
      That some callow, cruel kid
      Should reduce us to limerick-fodder?

  5. Matthew Lickona says

    I give all the Norbertines props
    They make awesome liturgical cops
    But if you must destroy
    Some Jesuitical ploy
    For that, you might need special OPs

  6. Imelda Jean, O.P. says

    I am not going to attempt verse of any kind. You can all thank me silently.

    Thank you, Angelico; contemplative thought bears graceful fruit indeed.

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