Category Archives: light verse

Right Way, Easy Way


Sometimes the right way is easy,
And sometimes the easy way’s right;
But how to choose between the two
When there’s only darkness, not light?
It’s easy to say, “Just choose one!”
But what if I make the wrong choice?
That’s why I wish my ears could hear
A sweet supernatural voice,
Saying, “This is the way—stick to it!
Don’t veer to the left or right!
By walking the way I tell you
Your darkness will turn into light.”
But no voice shatters the silence
At morning, at noon, or at night,
So I keep walking and walking—
And hoping the easy way’s right!


 
Poem © 2021 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Weekly Scribblings #75 at Poets and Storytellers United


If Poems…


If poems were written as lists,
Or tattooed on foreheads or wrists,
We’d see them quite well,
But after a spell,
We’d tire of their turns and their twists.


Limerick © 2021 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 

Let Me Go


Things related, things alike—
I will take them on this hike.
 
Remember that my part was chosen;
In that role my life was frozen.
 
Each breath leaves me sorry, dear;
The results are crystal clear.
 
Promise me you will not fast
When my life is past at last.
 
Cover me with Grandma’s quilt;
Over that toss Grandpa’s kilt.
 
Total everything I owe.
Now I’m ready—let me go!
 

Poem © 2021 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #317
 
More Writers’ Pantry #69 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Retreat

Hogan at Hubbell
The stone hogan, at Hubbell Trading Post, Ganado, Arizona often serves as a retreat for artists.
 


This little retreat’s made of stone,
A great place for being alone
And working on art.
You’re ready to start?
Good! Make sure you turn off your phone!

Photo and limerick © by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 

When I Forgot My Morning Smile


When I forgot my morning smile, the fish reminded me
That every river wants to rush headlong into the sea.
When blackbirds carried messages beyond the barnyard fence,
Five famous people came to see—they paid but seven pence.
If shuffling gets me to my goal, I’ll shuffle day and night,
But barefoot I will have to go—my boots are much too tight!
Remember on the day I die: No wailing is allowed!
Now promise me that buttonholes will decorate my shroud.

 
Poem © 2021 by Magical Mystical Teacher

Nonsense to Celebrate Daylight Saving Time


Water spilling from a cup—
Will you help me wipe it up?
Grass is crying in the rain—
Watch out now, here comes a train!
Throw the broken plate away,
And then ask your friend to play.
Sing and sway, don’t rock the boat!
Just remember: Stones can’t float!


 
Poem © 2021 by Magical Mystical Teacher

Looking for My Mind


I keep looking for my mind, but looking is hard work.
Some folks watching me, I’m sure, consider me a jerk.
If I could find my rightful mind, maybe I could play,
Be lighthearted once again, and laugh the livelong day.
But finding minds ain’t easy; and mine’s been lost so long,
It would take a miracle to right this bitter wrong.

 
Poem © 2021 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Weekly Scribblings #59 at Poets and Storytellers United: “I’m looking for a mind at work”

 

Jump-rope Rhymes: Pulling Punches


Pulling punches,
fixing lunches—
something has to give!
 
Having hunches
and long brunches—
what a way to live!
 
See, she scrunches
as she munches
carrots from a sieve!
 
Plant some runches,
harvest bunches—
don’t forget your shiv!

 
Poem © 2021 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Weekly Scribblings #56 at Poets and Storytellers United

Convoluted Kinships


I don’t want to be my mother,
I don’t want to be my dad;
Maybe I will be the brother
To the sis I never had.
 
Convoluted kinships? Got ’em!
You can tell my life’s a mess,
Just about to hit rock bottom—
’Cause I’m not my mom, I guess!


 
Poem © 2021 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Weekly Scribblings #55 at Poets and Storytellers United

The Kill


The stump of a tooth was tethered to stars.
At five till midnight three men puffed cigars.
One of them lathered his whiskery chin,
Using a brush soaked in whisky and gin.
One plowed through the soil, one raised a harpoon,
Hurling it carefully right at the moon.
The moon with a sigh crashed into the sea;
Monstrous waves followed and splintered the quay.
Once he’d accomplished this feat of great skill,
The harpooner bragged of making a kill,
A kill so complete the moon shines no more,
Except when wild women dance on the shore.

 
 

Poem © 2021 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #301
 
More Writers’ Pantry #48 at Poets and Storytellers United