It is common knowledge that poetry lovers have been frustrated by the fact
that no poet has chosen to express Jewish themes and feelings in the haiku
style (three unrhymed lines of five, seven, and five syllables
respectively).  Filling this gap in poetic literature, David M. Bader has
recently written a book entitled, Haikus for Jews.

Here are a few examples of his poetry:


Is one Nobel Prize
so much to ask from a child
after all I've done?

Five thousand years a
wandering people--then we
found the cabanas.

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.


In a stage whisper
a yenta confides the name
of her friend's disease.


Jewish triathlon--
gin rummy, then contract bridge,
followed by a nap.


Scrabble anarchy
after 'putzhead' is placed on
a triple-word score.


The sparkling blue sea
beckons me to wait one hour
after my sandwich.


Hava nagila,
hava nagila, hava--
enough already.


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


Left the door open.
for the Prophet Elijah.
Now our cat is gone.


The shivah visit
So sorry for your loss. Now
back to my problems.


Now that Koreans
are "the New Jews," the old Jews
can leave for Boca.


Yom Kippur-forgive
me, God, for the Mercedes
and all the lobsters.


Hard to tell under
the lights--white Yarmulke or
male-pattern baldness?


Lonely mantra of
the Buddhist monk--"They never
call, they never write."


No fins, no flippers
the gefilte fish swims with
some difficulty.


Yenta. Shmeer. Gevalt.
Shlemiel. Shlimazl. Tochis.
Oy! To be fluent!


Hey! Get back indoors!
Whatever you were doing
could put an eye out.


Firefly steals into
the night just like my former
partner, that gonif.


Look, Beryl! I've found
the most splendid tchochke for
our Chanukah bush.


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.


The long pilgrimage
to the venerable shrine -
Leonard's of Great Neck.


Quietly murmured
at Saturday services,
Yanks 5, Red Sox 3.


Today I am a
man. On Monday I return
to the seventh grade.