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Frogs

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A palm tree near the pond, Yuma Conservation Garden, Yuma, Arizona
 
 

Frogs, as I pass by your pond,
show me your beauty.
Come out of the mud.
Taste the clear night air.
Pretend to be stars or moonlight!
Sing to the flashing planets,
sing with your flickering tongues,
sing a song of sixpence,
fill your lungs with spring!

 

Poem © 2018 and photo © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Shadow Shot Sunday 2
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #147
   
More Poetry Pantry #389 at Poets United

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The coast is clear


The coast is clear,
but the simple man knows
that the earth is about to ripple
from the inside out
and become a gigantic heap
of rubble.
 
Might as well bask in the sun
warming his bones
while he can.
Nothing to gain by putting it off.
 
In the throes of ecstasy
he peels off his clothes,
gets down on his knees,
and gives thanks,
despite the tumult to come.

 

Poem © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #142
   
More Poetry Pantry #383 at Poets United

Six Aphorisms


No true patriot is petty.
 
Yesterday’s cauldrons are not meant for today’s soup.
 
She who broods lives only to hate.
 
The dust will endure long after you are gone.
 
It is clear that no one will miss the sarcastic person.
 
Athwart is a word seldom used, for obvious reasons.

 

© 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #132

Bits and Pieces

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~~ 1 ~~
 
leaning on his cane
grandpa in the nursing home
ogles the nurses
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
cat in the kitchen
unwinding a ball of yarn
with his white-tipped paw
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
rushing out the door
without glancing backward once—
terrified priestess
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
ravenous seagull
hovering near the dumpster—
last night’s crumbs for lunch
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
summer afternoon—
the ringing of clear laughter
from the neighbor’s yard
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
out-of-date lenses—
a minor blur in vision
makes him look again
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
rusting ship’s anchor
cast down at the water’s edge—
one crab scuttles by
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
old man’s rheumy eyes
flicker in recognition
in the nursing home
 

 
Haiku © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #316
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #73

Clear

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Mrs. Cranston left a stone at Roxaboxen Park, Yuma, Arizona. (Read why people leave stones at Roxaboxen.)
 


The message is clear
without a Rosetta Stone:
neat story, neat place.

 
Text © 2015 and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Carpe Diem: “Rosetta Stone”

Scraps

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~~ 1 ~~
 
muttering nonsense
the women at the dumpster
rummaging for scraps
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
in a hidden vein
gold ore waiting in the dark
for a miner’s pick
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
hibiscus blossoms—
tearing at them with anger
till they are no more
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
pilgrims on the way
the youngest lagging behind
to pick some daisies
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
from here to Denver
across the Mississippi—
the length of her stride
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
the topmost branches
of a forty-foot white oak—
my childhood lookout
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
the joy of walking
in places with no footprints
crow guiding my way
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
pathway pebble-clear
walking barefoot after dark
for our rendezvous
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
an old silver tray
laden with grapes and olives—
artisanal fruit
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
hibiscus blossoms—
changing their color with chalk
snitched from a schoolboy
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
August afternoon—
the way thunderheads threaten
to flood the washes
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
(extravagant)

 
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #263
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #18

Which

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Santuario de Chimayo, New Mexico
 


Clear glass or colored—
through which will the holy face
peer at me today?

 
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Ruby Tuesday Too
 
More Our World Tuesday
 
More Haiku Horizons: “Clear”

Clear

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Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, Southern California
 


in the wilderness
how clear the sky at midday—
my house is too small

 
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Haiku Horizons: “Clear”