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.

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