Category Archives: The Whirligig

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
 
 
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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
 
 
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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

 

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
 
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Jim


Somewhere is better than nowhere, grinning is better than grim;
Bourbon is better than bibles, but nothing is better than Jim.
He’s the old guy with the bedroll, who’s had a hard knock or two;
He sleeps in a rusty wheelbarrow, parked every night at the zoo.
Jim hasn’t a care in the world, though ashes cover his beard,
And all the grownups who cross his path think he’s completely weird.
But children think Jim’s a wonder—he teaches them letters and sums,
And never asks for a penny, and lets them pound on his drums!
The children all think that Jim’s tale is something that ought to be told,
So here’s to all the Jims of the world, who cannot be bought or sold!

 
 
Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #290
 
More Writers’ Pantry #44 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Haibun: Imagine


Imagine that you can go back in time to when you first loved the sound of rain in the night, or when you first identified the singing of the thrush. I know what you’re thinking: I’ll always be stuck in the here-and-now. But you don’t have to be. Imagine!
 
In the autumn woods
a tree stump becomes a throne
for an aging queen.


 

Haibun © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher

 

Troubling Questions


What defines your life:
an open or a closed door,
the day or the night?
 
 
How well can you know
the rain’s checkered history
in a thirsty land?
 
 
Their ways are not yours,
so why expect the screendoors
to listen to flies?
 
 
When the leaves grew mean,
did you almost drop your rake
and scream in terror?

 
 
Haiku © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #288
 
More Writers’ Pantry #42 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Haibun: Bathing the Turtle


Sheltered by a stand of willows, I watch a young boy giving his pet turtle a scrub in the pond. Obviously this turtle’s well cared for, and no disease will carry it away. Such empathy! I fight the urge to cry out, “What a great kid!” If only I had some flowers to leave to show my appreciation for this boy’s tenderness. But I must go. Thankful for this little diversion from the day’s bad news, I turn toward home. It’s a long walk. If I’m lucky, I’ll get there before dark.
 
All my bitter tears
vanish in a single note
from the blackbird’s throat.

 

Haibun © by Magical Mystical Teacher

 

We Strained the Honey


We strained the honey, it flows like light
On our bread’s darkness; we take a bite,
Lost in the glorious mystery
Of wilding sweetness that sets us free.
 
How precious to set aside our shrugs
Of unbelief and squash them like bugs!
Minds that are closed can open anew;
Eat of our bread now—we break it for you.

 
 
Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #285
 
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Six Shorts


midafternoon snack
of juicy watermelon
ripe and red and sweet
 
 
stepping back quickly—
a rattler ready to strike
warns me just in time
 
 
a change in her luck
after the sunflowers bloom—
retreating cancer
 
 
adjusting the light
while using the cutting board
for chopping veggies
 
 
Something in the room,
perhaps dust in the closet,
seems to call my name.
 
 
geranium pots
arrayed on a stepladder—
summer afternoon

 
 
Haiku © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #282
 
More Writers’ Pantry #36 at Poets and Storytellers United