Blog Archives
Haibun: Cataracts
“You don’t have glaucoma, just cataracts,” my ophthalmologist says cheerfully. Well, at least I’m not going blind, although my sight is clouded. Nighttime is the worst. I can’t even pick out the bright stars that form Ursa Major. The meaning of my restricted vision eludes me. What’s the point of my not seeing clearly the glories of this galaxy? I complain that my irises no longer do what they were designed to do. “Sometimes I feel like I’m looking down a long narrow hall,” I say. “Other times, my sight hits a wall.” My ophthalmologist shrugs. “Presbyopia,” he says. “It happens to all of us as we age.” Small consolation, I think, as I leave his office. I’ve never wanted to be like everyone else.
Spring tranquility—
in the noonday sun cattle
settle down to nap.
More The Whirligig #371
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon
More Friday Writings #27 at Poets and Storytellers United
Haibun: The Medic’s Tale
I had to work without a day off for weeks, up to and including Thanksgiving Day, so the feast is late this year. Plates, potatoes, rolls, wine—everything’s in short supply, and hard to find. Now I have to fight my way through Black Friday crowds. I’ll be lucky to find even a wrinkled tablecloth, bundled in a broken plastic wrapper. With any luck, this shopping expedition will take only hours, not decades. But what do I know? I don’t live in some storybook tale, where bluff and bluster somehow magically compensate for wit and wisdom. This is as real as it gets. And the feast—whatever ends up on our table—is late this year.
November morning—
a cup of instant coffee
doesn’t hit the spot.
More The Whirligig #346
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon
More Friday Writings #4 at Poets and Storytellers United
Whirling with Basho
Each haiku or senryu begins with a phrase gleaned from Basho: The Complete Haiku.
~~ 1 ~~
gazing at buckwheat
seven crows collaborate
on a thieving plan
~~ 2 ~~
a singing skylark—
I listen without breathing
to the joyful sound
~~ 3 ~~
the melon flower
after the children throw stones
who will care for it
~~ 4 ~~
a year of troubles
lived without compromising
her integrity
~~ 5 ~~
Are you the butterfly
that will serve to guide my steps
on the long journey?
~~ 6 ~~
the source of sadness
in their small community—
receding river
~~ 7 ~~
a white azalea
blooming in a state of grace—
my neighbor’s garden
~~ 8 ~~
the muddy melon
they chat about its sweetness
in the market stall
~~ 9 ~~
to admire the wind
she must have had no contact
with it since childhood
~~ 10 ~~
by winter showers
decades of matrimony
washing down the street
~~ 11 ~~
a vendor of greens—
concerns about the collards
make for sleepless nights
~~ 12 ~~
souvenir paintings
no time to buy one before
the next train departs
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Poetry Pantry #216
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 176
Finding
Sunset in a smoke-filled sky, Southern Arizona
on a spring evening
finding the young me I lost
three decades ago
Text and photo © 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Ruby Tuesday 2
More Ein Stück Himmel #74
More Carpe Diem: “Inspired by Kyoshi Takahama”
Magical Mystical Teacher 