Blog Archives

Bell

 photo DSC_0337_zpsvirbjzrv.jpg
Day’s end, Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
 

At the sunset bell,
not another word from you,
trembling little dove!

 
Haiku and photo © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More SkyWatch Friday
 
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon

Plotlines

 photo 17335c3f-fd0f-48e1-8b03-e1b77c8fbb1f_zpsippwcxd8.jpg
Midwinter sunrise, Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
 
Each breath-of-a-poem begins with a phrase purloined from A Year in the World: Journeys of a Passionate Traveller by Frances Mayes.
 


~~ 1 ~~
 
on a yellow plate
a stack of toast tall enough
to touch the full moon
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
Against a stone wall
the notes from a temple bell
cling like morning mist.
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
adorned with flowers—
some scarlet, some lavender—
his daughter’s casket
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
a tall limestone cross—
seven dead chrysanthemums
scattered at its base
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
a few splats of rain
and her daydream is ruined—
midsummer morning
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
searching for a house
where three children play jump-rope
till the supper call
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
Under an awning
the desperate lovers touch
and kiss each other.
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
plotting the places
where she might run from his threats—
not enough to count
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
The man who sells forks
hides them from a group on tour—
his suspicious eyes.

 
Haiku © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 240

Tolling

 photo e4a492e9-b3ee-4946-904c-df56cde52b60_zps3a45274c.jpg
Mission San Juan Capistrano, Southern California
 


long before sunset
even the wren stops singing
to heed the bell’s toll
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
tolling a bell for all seasons

 
Text and photo © 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Six-Word Saturday
 
More Shadow Shot Sunday 2
 
More Carpe Diem: “Basho’s ‘A Bell at Sunset'”

The Corner Thrift Store

 photo 676a8090-9088-409f-b303-48286d90f087_zps1k6tfmun.jpg

 
 

She wears simple clothes
with not a tear in the fabric,
with not a single button missing,
bought from the corner thrift store—
a scarf the color of buckwheat honey;
a skirt as black as a bell at midnight;
a chemise beaded with row upon row
of tiny white shells
gathered just before dawn.

I never tire of watching her
in her element:
the thrift store at the corner,
where the sidewalk is almost level,
and a sign in the window
says they have an opening
for someone who speaks Latin—
perhaps she will apply.

 

© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #250
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #5