Category Archives: Poets & Storytellers United
Maple, poplar, oak—
the names of my forest friends
linger on my tongue.
Women keep weeping
because roots of war grow deep,
and church bells go mute.
In the plum tree’s shade
my skinny little daughter
rubs two shiny coins.
Mother Earth, sounding
oddly like my own mother,
says, “Mend your ways, child.”
More The Whirligig #267
More Writers’ Pantry #21 at Poets and Storytellers United
My hopes are dashed and scattered,
There’s no more grace to spare,
For flyaway potatoes
Have landed everywhere!
They’ve landed on my shoulders,
They’ve landed on my knee,
They’ve landed in the ocean,
They’ve landed in the sea.
Some folks would call it bounty,
But I call it bad luck
To live in Tater County
And drive a tater truck.
Perhaps I should be grateful
For taters, lanes, and such,
But after three bad crashes,
I am not grateful much.
More The Whirligig #266
More Writers’ Pantry #20 at Poets and Storytellers United
Fill the tooth, fear the faces
Peering in the empty spaces.
Mix the needlepoint with mittens;
Leave unharmed the cats and kittens.
Do not be afraid of arms;
Help the farmers on their farms.
When the hay has all been stacked
And the plums in jars are packed,
Smiles will go a long, long way
Toward allaying fears, I say.
More The Whirligig #265
More Writers’ Pantry #19 at Poets and Storytellers United
On seeing the world about them go splash,
They put on their helmets, ready to dash
Into the glimmering, shimmering waves
That will soon carry them into their graves.
They haven’t a prayer, they haven’t a chance,
They run through the door, preparing to dance
With spiraling waves that will not forgive—
Deadly the moments the boys won’t outlive.
Could ever there be a much sadder song
Than that of a day when all things go wrong?
Maybe the wrong would turn right, if we cared,
But plague time is here, and we’re unprepared.
More The Whirligig #264
More Writers’ Pantry #18 at Poets and Storytellers United
Everything stirs up my blood:
Leaves and grass, and squishy mud.
Dancers in the field don’t need
Anything but chicken feed.
Don’t give garbage to your cow!
Stop this nonsense, stop it now!
I wish I could see the light;
Hear bees whisper, “It’s all right.”
More The Whirligig #263
More Writers’ Pantry #17 at Poets and Storytellers United
(NOTE: Nothing profound here. Just enjoy the sounds of the words as you read them aloud.)
Chocolate muffins linger on,
Tingling tongues until they’re gone.
Wasted apples clog the sink
Quicker than a rat can think.
Asked to whirl through vats of dye,
Pinwheels stop and wonder why.
“What’s in it for us?” they ask.
“What an idiotic task!”
Blueberry pie, tasty treat!
Reading tea leaves—oh how sweet!
Mystic signs of grit and grace—
Scrub your hands and wash your face!
More The Whirligig #262
More Writers’ Pantry #16 at Poets and Storytellers United
This is an Easter story, a Passover story, an anytime-you-need-to-practice-gratitude story. Once upon a time there was a butterfly who had no wings. She could not fly from here to there, but had to wait for the wind to shake her loose from one flower and carry her to the next. One night she had a dream: She was transformed! She had wings! And the best part? She woke from her dream to find that it was true! She could fly on her own from blossom to blossom! She began to breathe a prayer: “Spirit of wonder! Spirit of love! Thank you for my new life. I will cherish every moment of it, even when my wings become faded and tattered.”
Why are you waiting?
The road your grandmothers walked
is calling your name.
More The Whirligig #261
More Writers’ Pantry #15 at Poets and Storytellers United
Every stone marking the path of this Phoenix, Arizona labyrinth has a story to tell. Pilgrim, are you istening?
The stones are speaking.
What strange stories do they tell?
Hush, child, listen well.
Haiku and photo © by Magical Mystical Teacher
More SkyWatch Friday
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon
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In a field of strange surprises, one chipped cup appears;
Yellow roses near the lip have faded with the years.
A clothesline pinned with tables, along with rusty tools,
Earns heaps of raw derision from mouths of Sunday fools.
They say the world is flooding and seas are black with ink.
But who knows what the truth is, and who knows what to think?
The end of time’s upon us, and dust coats every shelf.
But what’s the use of cleaning? Just leave that to the elf.
More The Whirligig #260
More Writers’ Pantry #14 at Poets and Storytellers United
First great change of spring—
the coronavirus spreads
all over the world.
On the patio
six feet away from my friend
we share springtime tea.
first nibble of spring—
a handful of raw almonds
with my morning tea
Through a small window
I watch the first spring robins
foraging for worms.
First possum of spring—
I’m inclined to think he’s dead
till his tail twitches.
Spring sneaks through my yard—
the first blossom’s opening
brings me to my knees.
Haiku © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More The Whirligig #259
More Writers’ Pantry #13 at Poets and Storytellers United