Category Archives: Poets & 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

Light Show

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On a winter morning the sun rises in Wellton, Arizona.
 


winter pilgrimage—
walking away from darkness
and into the light

 
Haiku and photo © by Magical Mystical Teacher

 
A new haiku for Weekly Scribblings #40 at Poets and Storytellers United

Tidings

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A church in Wellton, Arizona is decorated for Christmas.
 

On long winter nights
a light pierces the darkness—
tidings of great joy!

 
 
Haiku and photo © by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon
 
More Writers’ Pantry #51 at Poets and Storytellers United

A Is for Aardvark


A is for aardvark, and also for ass—
The donkey disporting itself in the grass.
You’ll also need A for apple and apt,
For azure, anointing—alas, not for sapped.
Keep those A’s handy, you’ll use them, I’m sure:
Aroma, armada, anoint, and allure.
Whatever you do, don’t stop your A’s now:
Spell African, aching, along, and allow;
Amber, anathema, alley, antique—
You’ve enough A’s now to last for a week!
A few more won’t hurt, so try out afar,
Anacoluthon and asp—not cigar.
And while you are at it, use more A’s, my child:
Aspersion, assembly, afflicted, and aisled.
Had enough yet? Oh, I think you have not!
Try ample, ambiguous, Alice and aught,
Along with androgyny, ample and Anne;
Acrid and acid, but not Candy Man.
Antique and Antigua are not the same,
So both of them are allowed in this game,
There’s nothing about you untoward or unstable,
So keep writing A-words as long as you’re able!

 
 

Dancers with Candles


Dancers with candles are lurking around
Places where mistletoe is to be found,
Hoping their empty lips soon will be kissed,
Fearing their footsteps will turn into mist.
Suddenly sleepy the dancers do swoon,
Not caring at all that it’s only noon.
Could this be deep magic doing its work,
Or am I dreaming like some lonely jerk?
Soon I’ll be nodding, my air will be gone,
And it will be time for me to pass on.
Please don’t forget me when I am no more;
Give heed to my wisdom, this I implore.
Of all I’ve told you, try to remember:
Dance with your candle every December!

 
 

Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #295
 
More Writers’ Pantry #49 at Poets and Storytellers United

Dreams that Call


Do you hear the dreams that call,
Dreams your hands still hope to find?
Stand in wonder of them all,
Pillow them within your mind.
In the shell of your old life
You could stand until you die,
But it’s time to slip away
With the hawk that rides the sky.
Onward through the wind and fire!
Push yourself, do not give up!
You will find your heart’s desire
Waiting in a brimming cup.

 
 

Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #294
 
More Writers’ Pantry #48 at Poets and Storytellers United

Haibun: Give Thanks


“I’m too tired to be grateful,” I growl, and sip a third cup of coffee. I listen to my watch ticking. I remember the scent of the tangerine I peeled on a long-ago Thanksgiving Day. The citrus oils stung my chapped fingers, making me wince. But that was the best tangerine I have ever tasted. And the longer I live, the more clearly I see that I can choose how my day will go by changing my attitude. “Don’t be fooled,” I say to myself, “gratitude is the path to contentment. Make every day a holy day. Give thanks.”
 

autumn meander—
making my way toward twilight
with a few detours



 

Haibun © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher

 

Celebrate

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Fading bougainvillea blossoms have been tossed on a trash heap in Wellton, Arizona.
 


Can I truly celebrate
When the brilliant blossoms fade?
Can this heart of mine rejoice
When such folly is displayed?
 
Yet even as they’re fading,
And although they cannot sing,
The blossoms clearly show me
Life on Earth’s a fragile thing.

 
Poem and photo © by Magical Mystical Teacher

Six for Sunday


Two blue butterflies
anoint my garden with peace—
sunny afternoon.
 
 
tender stalks of corn
pushing toward the morning sun—
feast for hungry crows
 
 
The longer I sing,
the more this daunting mountain
dwindles to a speck.
 
 
I slide on wet leaves
and my pathway disappears—
autumn’s first mishap.
 
 
On a moonless night
I sink down before the stars,
wounded by their light.
 
 
November evening—
a dove returns to her nest,
cooing one last song.

 
 

Haiku © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #291
 
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon
 
More Writers’ Pantry #46 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

A Crow and a Hoe


A crow that I once knew named Joe
Fell madly in love with a hoe.
A rake wouldn’t do;
Past shovels he flew—
Joe just couldn’t dig ‘em, ya know?

 
Limerick © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher