Category Archives: light verse

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”

Blue Monday: Cholla

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A bright blue sky highlights a variety of cholla cactus, Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, Southern Arizona.
 
 

A cholla perks up when the sky
Turns blue as an iris—but why?
I’m not sure I know,
But surely it’s so,
And that’s good enough—it’s no lie!

 
 
Photo and limerick © by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
BLUE MONDAY BADGE

 
 
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Small Doses


Wanderer, painter, or potter—which role is the best for me?
A clay pot follows the end of a straw into the roiling sea.
All who are guilty cause chaos; things without names cannot be;
Mercy comes in small doses to sinners who sin without glee:
Number them, mercy’s particles, number them One, Two, and Three!
From darkness create something of light and savor the mystery.

 
  
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #232
 
More Poetry Pantry #494 at Poets United

On Guard


A person who’s never on guard
Will never become a good bard,
For poets have eyes
That see beyond lies;
They stick to the truth—and that’s hard!

 
Limerick © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Vigilance”

Blue Monday: License Plate

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An old license plate at Yuma Conservation Garden, Yuma, Arizona still has legible numbers.
 
 

The license plate’s number are blue,
Not yellow or some other hue.
They’re bright and they’re bold,
A joy to behold,
As everything is that is blue!

 
 
Photo and limerick © by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
BLUE MONDAY BADGE

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

Stargazer


Stargazer, stargazer, why do you stare?
Has Taurus vanished somewhere up there?
 
Stargazer, stargazer, what do you see?
Are comets blazing far above me?
 
Stargazer, stargazer, I hear your song,
Echoing softly all the night long.
 
Stargazer, stargazer, who will you tell
If a star wobbles and falls in a well?
 
Stargazer, stargazer, if you retire,
Who’ll tell the children of heavenly fire?
 
Stargazer, stargazer, how will the crow
Tell me the names of the stars that you know?
 
Stargazer, stargazer, may your voice last!
May it be fiery and may it be vast!

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

Blue Monday: Standing Guard

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Yuma Conservation Garden, Yuma, Arizona
 
 

The cacti in the garden stand guard both night and day,
When skies are blue as bluebirds, and even when they’re grey.
 
I’m glad for watchful cacti, for skies of grey and blue;
For with no skies or cacti, whatever would we do?

 
 
Photo and poem © by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
BLUE MONDAY BADGE

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

In the Riverbed


In the riverbed I listened while the fishes swam and spoke;
The tales that they were weaving made me want to have a smoke
Of something much more potent than a Winston or Pall Mall,
But the room beneath the water had no butler and no bell.
Thus I could not call for hashish, so I tried to calm myself
By burning fragrant incense that I found upon a shelf.
The smoke set me to dreaming, and my arms fell limp at last,
I felt empty as a daydream from my mother’s distant past.
I fear you won’t believe me, nor the story that I tell,
So here’s the final word, my friends: I bid you all farewell.

 
  
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #230
 
More Poetry Pantry #492 at Poets United

Books


Illiterate though he may be,
Books litter his bedroom, you see.
That book on the chair
He handles with care,
And looks at the pictures with glee!

 
Limerick © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Literacy”