Category Archives: Poetry Picnic

Disparate Tales

 photo DSC_0013_zpsyvptyuy6.jpg
Fallen leaf, Oak Creek Canyon, Sedona, Arizona
 
 


  
~~ 1 ~~
  
three kids on the run
deciding which bus to take—
their furtive glances
  
~~ 2 ~~
  
during the first hymn
an old woman coughs in church—
the alto just glares
  
~~ 3 ~~
  
swinging the scissors
from one hand to the other—
ambidextrous boy
  
~~ 4 ~~
  
wilderness matins—
the liturgy of weirdness
in a lizard’s tail
  
~~ 5 ~~
  
after last night’s storm
the smell of white flower heads
battered by hailstones
  
~~ 6 ~~
  
autumn afternoon—
the old Chevy’s clicking valves
keeping cricket time
  
~~ 7 ~~
  
dabbing away tears
after the graveside service—
the sergeant’s widow

 
Haiku © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
  
  
More Macro Monday 2
  
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Blasted

Seeds
Seed pods on a palo verde tree, Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
 


blasted by the sun
ten thousand tiny seed pods
swelling up with light

 
Haiku © 2016 and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #306
 
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No Mist Mars Sweet Summer’s Face

Casa Baden-Powell
 


No mist mars sweet summer’s face,
Bulky thunderclouds have fled;
I resign myself to joy
In our secret rooftop bed.

 
Text and photo © 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
Photo: Casa Baden-Powell, Morelia, Michoacán, México
 
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Tres por miércoles

original
 


Sitting on her porch
swaddled in bulky sweaters,
cocoa calms our tongues.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
on gossamer wings
mist stealing through the forest—
fragile little bird
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
A wind from the north—
I resign myself to frost
savaging the beans.

 
© 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Three Word Wednesday: “Bulky, Mist, Resign”
 
More The Poetry Pantry #101
 
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Only in Our Dreams

Door lock Morelia
 


Only in our dreams
does the lock begin to sing—
riddles wild and free.

 
Text and photo © 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
Photo: A securely locked door, Morelia, Michoacán, México
 
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Where’d They Go?

Photobucket
 


Where’d they go, our mom and dad?
Are they way back there?
We are worried, we are sad,
So we stop and stare.

 
Text and photo © 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
Photo: Beside the aqueduct, Morelia, Michoacán, México
 
More Straight Out of the Camera Sunday
 
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You Know the Way

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(This week’s whirling words are: hips, marrow, crocuses, stillness, massive, secret, flower, grief, window, perhaps, hand, clatter, colors)
 
 

What do I know of how
to move my hips and blood and marrow
from this place where they are rooted
to a land far, far away?
Perhaps some god’s benevolent hand
will write a set of clear directions on the wall:
“Here is how you know the path to take.
Renounce the empty clatter of your restless heart
and cultivate the stillness of the
secret garden in you,
where crocuses of many colors grow.
Even through the window of your grief
you see them,
along with hidden seeds about to sprout and flower
into an orchard so heavy with fruit
that ten thousand-thousand seasons will not be enough
to gather in the massive harvest.
Go, now, I think you know the way.”

 

© 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 57
 
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Whirling Haiku and Senryu

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The first line of each haiku or senryu below is taken from “August” by Arizona poet Richard Shelton.
 
This week’s whirling words are: hips, marrow, crocuses, stillness, massive, secret, flower, grief, window, perhaps, hand, clatter, colors
 
 


As if she owned them,
she charged her hips to swagger
down the dusty street.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
bruised moon and darkness
the marrow of the heavens
leaking from cracked bones
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
a great blue peacock
seven golden crocuses—
eight spring gifts for you
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Our little fingers
settled into stillness,
then formed holy signs.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
We see her old ship,
its massive sails billowing—
no one at the helm.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
The lady in black
imparts to me a secret—
I decide to flee.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
In the market place
she buys a single flower—
then it turns to stone.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
She wears the postures
of grief and consternation,
mumbling to the fox.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
over her window
a map of all the sorrows
she has ever known
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
We bring her our hands—
perhaps she can persuade them
to write poetry.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
With its dark cargo,
my hand is fit companion
for the furtive ones.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Run out on the floor
with a clatter and a shout—
Spirit wants to dance!
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
As if they belonged,
the colors settled on us—
lingering spirits.

 
© 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 57
 
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A Wednesday Trio

original
 


Lord of the feathers,
do not dampen my pinions
as I cleave the air.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
You spit in the dirt
to keep my heart from straying,
yet I drift away.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Tremble on this ground,
for it is consecrated
by ten thousand tears.

 
© 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Three Word Wednesday: “Dampen, Keep, Tremble”
 
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Are There No Raindrops?

Take 3
 

Are there no raindrops
to soothe this tortured landscape
or my trembling heart?

 
Text and photo © 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
Photo: Northern Arizona
 
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