Category Archives: Rhyming poetry

Field of Strange Surprises


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.

 

Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #260
 
More Writers’ Pantry #14 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

In This Morgue


In this morgue, this dismal place,
A blind beggar hangs his face
By the mirror on the wall
In the stinking bathroom stall.
Sipping brandy in the loo,
He remembers what to do:
Look for a new walking stick,
One that will not clack or click.

Sideways now he tilts his head,
Living man among the dead,
Happy man with no tattoo—
Love will show him what is true!


 

Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #254
 
More Writers’ Pantry #8 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Let the Lint Fall Where It May


Let the lint fall where it may,
In the dirt or in the hay.
The clock is stuck at half-past one,
Desolation has begun;
Now the table won’t be set
For the meal I’d hoped to get.
Things have turned out to be worse
Than this twisted, tortured verse.
All my feelings go awry
When a stick’s poked in my eye,
And the sound of heavy metal
Grinding every flower petal
Seems to last for forty years—
Who will wipe away my tears?

 

Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #253
 
More Writers’ Pantry #7 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Cups of Tea


Cups of tea increase our pleasure.
Moments that we cannot measure
Suddenly turn dark as coffee—
Are we craving English toffee?
Down we go, the house is shaking!
Moved by snow, there’s no mistaking
That an avalanche is sliding
Into places we’d be hiding
Were they splashed with gin or rum.
Aloud we pray: “Let no harm come!”


 
DISCLAIMER: This ditty is strictly the product of my overactive imagination.
  

© 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #249
 
More Writers’ Pantry #3 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Blue Monday: Winter Afternoon

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A few clouds and lots of blue sky make a perfect winter afternoon in Yuma County, Arizona.
 
 

Despite a few clouds, the sky shines bright blue.
It’s perfect for all: for me and for you.
Even in winter when walking this land,
Our faces and fingers seem to get tanned.

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

 
 
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Blue Monday: Lighting the Sky

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The sky lights up over Wellton, Arizona on a December morning.
 
 

Long ago and far away there shone a brilliant light.
Even now the wise among us tremble at the sight.
The reason for their quaking is plain as plain can be:
In an unsuspecting face they glimpse eternity.

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

 
Merry Christmas, everyone!
 
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Three Poems for the Old Year


Eat some beef and throw a stone,
Carry hay and gnaw a bone;
Something good will soon appear—
This year’s almost up, my dear!
 
 
Pipers pipe and dancers dance,
Horses horse and prancers prance;
Sensors sense that all is clear
For the ending of the year.
 
 
Wrapped in paper pears turn ripe;
Whiskey’s in the water pipe,
Running cold and fast and free—
Will you toast the year with me?

 
Poems © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “The Year’s End”

Blue Monday: Playing the Blues

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A trumpeter plays the blues, resting his music on a blue music stand at an outdoor event in Yuma, Arizona.
 
 

Play me some blues, man, play them with soul,
Play on your trumpet, making me whole.
Fill in the blank spots with your sweet art,
Play me some blues, man, play from your heart.

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

 
 
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Bleak Is the Stable


Bleak is the stable and frosty the hay;
The old shepherd’s moaning, “Please go away!
Give me some quiet, for that would be bliss;
Messes annoy me—just look at all this!
Some other farmhand should milk the brown cow,
While I feed the lambs, the calves, and the sow.
Yes, I know my part, I know it right well:
Work is my worship, despite the rank smell.”

 
  

Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #244
 
More Pantry of Poetry and Prose #8 at Poets United

 

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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