Category Archives: light verse

Blue Monday: Patch of Blue

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An old horse-drawn wagon slowly returns to dust at Yuma Conservation Garden, Yuma, Arizona.
 
 

Beyond the broken wagon, we see a patch of blue,
And head in that direction without a trace of rue.
We know that we will find there a quiet, peaceful place,
And so we journey onward toward that azure space.

 
 
Rhyming poem and photo © by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
BLUE MONDAY BADGE

 
 
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Quirky Couplets


How bothersome it is when flies
Buzz my coffee at sunrise!
 
If you have a fretful wife,
Be prepared for lots of strife!
 
Swat the spider, set it free
From its webbed captivity!
 
A deep hole—imagine that!
Will it fit inside my hat?
 
My bicycle is looping round and round the park;
Morning, noon, and afternoon—even in the dark!
 
Roses for the weekend, every weekday too;
Roses, darling, roses—yellow ones for you.

 
  

Couplets © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #242
 
More Pantry of Poetry and Prose #6 at Poets United

 

Blue Monday: Abandoned Motel

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Graffiti defaces an abandoned motel north of Flagstaff, Arizona.
 
 

Graffiti mars the old hotel,
It’s feeling rather blue.
Is there some way to cheer it up?
I don’t know, do you?
 
~~ ## ~~
 
deepening autumn—
the longing of broken things
to be whole again

 
 
Rhyming poem, haiku and photo © by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
BLUE MONDAY BADGE

 
 
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Blue Monday: Distant Mountain

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Colorful aspen trees brighten a hillside in California’s Inyo National Forest.
 
 

From a distant mountain, surrounded by blue sky,
I hear a raven calling, and I wonder why.
Perhaps he has a message that I need to hear,
Or maybe it’s just nonsense—who will make it clear?

 
 
Photo and poem © by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
BLUE MONDAY BADGE

 
 
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Blue Monday: Blurred Image

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Photobucket is holding all my images hostage, including this one of old fruit crates in Yuma County, Arizona.
 
 

Photobucket blurs the image,
Adds their watermark as well.
Do they think I’ll pay a ransom?
All I’m going to do is yell!

 
 
Poem and photo © by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
BLUE MONDAY BADGE

 
 
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Release the Horses


Release the horses into the deep,
Water the foxes until they sleep.
 
Necks of the foxes? Smell them with fear!
Horses’ hooves pounding? Get out of here!
 
Things that you’ve owned? Not destined to stay!
Things that you cherish? Fading away!
 
Sending this quickly, only one time—
May you find truth somewhere in this rhyme.

 
  
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #237
 
More Poetry Pantry #498 at Poets United
 

Blue Monday: Rainbow

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A rainbow brightens part of the Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, Southern California.
 
 

Even a rainbow brighter than bright
Can never begin to outshine the night;
But hang it high in a desert place
And watch the barrenness glow with grace!

 
 
Poem and photo © by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
BLUE MONDAY BADGE

 
 
To share your Blue Monday shot, click on the Mister Linky icon below:
 
 
 

A Bit of Sunday Morning Nonsense


Minus your face, dear, you bring me to tears.
A spot of confetti seems to last years.
The grit in the ashes soon turns to brass;
Shelves in my memory shatter like glass.
Come here, my darling, and bring me more wine;
Bear with my foolishness, make my face shine!

 
  
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #236
 
More Poetry Pantry #497 at Poets United
 

Do Not Menace Me


Do not menace me with rope, swaying from a tree,
Even though the hangman winks, while phantoms laugh with glee.
Cheer me as I’m sleeping, darling, underneath the sod;
Hear me through the casket’s keyhole as I pray to God,
Begging that the creep who hanged me won’t outlast this day;
Quiet now, the storm winds welter, wailing on their way!

 
  
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #235
 
More Poetry Pantry #496 at Poets United
 

A Bit of Truthiness


What’s the truth about myself?
I am not a dusty shelf,
Where the cups and saucers sit,
And the crickets never quit
Making noises all the night,
Thinking that they bring delight.
 
Nor am I a blast of air
Roaring here and roaring there,
Knocking wigs off women’s heads,
Ripping oak leaves into shreds.
Here’s the truth, if truth be told:
Older than the stones, I’m old!

 
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
  
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Truth”