Hole-y haiku! Readers vent about potholes in verse

  • Article by: Star Tribune
  • Updated: April 15, 2014 - 7:00 PM
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Parts of Modern Road in Brooklyn Park are pitted with potholes.

Photo: David Joles, Star Tribune

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With our roads in a hole-y terror after our long and hard winter, we asked readers to vent about potholes in verse. Here is a sampling of your pothole haikus.

There’s one new pothole
That I heard about last week
That has a Starbucks.
George Kittell, Richfield

A resounding crash,
Hubcap spins merrily away,
My mechanic smiles.
Matt Kramer, Shoreview

Holes in the pavement
It’s a look into hist’ry
Seeing old brick road
Aaron Shaffer, Minneapolis

Treacherous roadways
Pops of tires and curses
Minnesota spring
Sara Mutchler, St. Louis Park

Dangerous season
for bicyclists not wanting
to go spelunking.
Cole Sarar, Minneapolis

Hit the pothole. Jolt!
Flying saucer?  No, hubcap.
Wish car could hover.
Martha Ward, Plymouth

East Minnehaha
Parkway of misaligned wheels
Makes my lug nuts ache
Mark Johanson, St. Paul

My husband pushes
Slush splatters as the wheels spin
I long for a horse.
Holly Day, Minneapolis

Winter to summer.
Where’s our spring?  Where’s our smooth ride?
Where’s my suspension?
Stephanie Wilbur Ash, Minneapolis

On the road again
It is a typical day
Suddenly ruined.
Mark Efron, Golden Valley

It’s just a puddle
a shallow harmless puddle
hiding a broken axle.
Michael McKinney, St. Paul

Driving on gouged roads
is a concrete reminder:
my taxes are due
Sarah Turner, St. Paul

Rubber eating pit
A great depth it has to it
Now I must retire
Steve Ketcham, Edina

Harbinger of spring
Road becomes a slalom course
Thrills! sans gold medal
Marcia F. Gardner, Minnetonka

When filled with water:
“We are just friendly puddles”
“Psych! We’re murderholes!”
Bradley Hunt, Minneapolis

In winter, don’t fail.
Holes that eat, are ankle deep.
Swerve, brace, you poor tires.
Patti Keiper, Hopkins

Perched perfect portal
Perchance plummet pondering
Pebble patched potholes
Lisa J. Yankton, Brooklyn Center

ooops! another one
craters of oblivion
up and down the road
Colleen Casey, St. Paul

A gaping chasm
Separates the street from the store
We’re just here for beer.
Holly Day, Minneapolis

First bike ride of spring
Damned pothole sends me tumbling
First road rash of spring.
Holly Day, Minneapolis

Franklin Avenue:
shallow grave swallows my car
just before Third Street.
Cole Sarar, Minneapolis

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