Blog Archives

Haibun: Wisdom Is Waiting


I am following a path that leads, they say, to Willow Woman, who stands in solitude. How will I find her? Stooped and ungainly? Or singing songs that she learned from her ancestors? Songs of leaf and twig. Songs of root and branch. Songs of drought and disease. In the absence of answers to my questions, I keep moving, as I have done year after year. My one desire—I have no other—is to see Willow Woman at last, for in her, wisdom is waiting.

Autumn afternoon—
in my neighbor’s tiny yard
one red rose still blooms.

 
  

Haibun © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #238
 
More Pantry of Poetry and Prose #2 at Poets United

The Absence of Tread

 photo DSC_0181_zpsc9ono3fh.jpg
A worn-out tire, Yuma Conservation Garden, Yuma, Arizona
 


The absence of tread
Is nothing to fear—
Just keep on rolling,
You’ll get there, my dear!
 
The way may be long,
The road may be rough,
But you and the tire
Are tougher than tough.
 
Not even danger
Can make you stay home,
Just like a mustang
You’re willing to roam.
 
So keep on rolling,
You’ll get there, it’s clear—
The absence of tread
Is nothing to fear!

 
Poem and photo © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Absence”

Falls

 photo DSC_0090_zpseg11pvze.jpg
Waterfall, Japanese Friendship Garden, Phoenix, Arizona
 


drinking from the falls
in the absence of a pub—
wine of loneliness

 
Text and photo © 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Wednesday Waters #12
 
More Carpe Diem Special #152
 
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon

An Ernest Whirl

Banner photo BANNER.jpg
 

Each little breath-of-a-poem begins with a phrase purloined from A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway.
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
stretch of river bank
near the precipitous cliff—
her quavering heart
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
a bleak, windy stretch
with nothing to sustain her
but some cheap red wine
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
this cold afternoon
even the pigeons stutter
as they try to coo
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
Even the false spring
baffles the chestnut seller
on the rue Ampère.
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
pitiful old man
pushing a rickety cart
filled with rotting grapes
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
crowded market street—
her longing for fresh scallions
draws her to one stall
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
all of the sadness
leaking into her old bones
with the autumn rain
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
in the clear sharp wind
crows practising a language
to mock passersby
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
a cold windswept street—
running down a flight of stairs
to meet her lover
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
saddest part of town—
the absence of a taxi
to whisk her away
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
the public bathhouse—
through a rift in the west wall
old men ogling her

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #215
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 175