Blog Archives

Flee From the Kitchen


Flee from the kitchen, live on the porch;
August is glowing hot as a torch.
Cover yourself with rags or with strips,
Drink from a bucket, smacking your lips.
Dream of crisp apples, cinnamon toast,
A knife too dull to carve Sunday’s roast.
As the Earth turns and takes you along,
Make up a ditty, sing a new song!

 
 
Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #280
 
More Writers’ Pantry #34 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Tokens of the Way

 photo 7604e643-49c3-4264-8f8f-a6cbd07f9048_zps41b6kde3.jpg
 
 


~~ 1 ~~
 
Rocking in her chair,
the wizened grandmother
dreams of growing tall.
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
each Sunday morning
stirring the pancake batter
with a wooden spoon
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
Halfway to nowhere,
while longing to be somewhere,
she loses her map.
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
needing words of grace
to sustain her famished soul—
bread is not enough
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
on a rock alone
daughter of the sea lion
fending off suitors
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
sipping from the glass
while slapping at mosquitoes—
sloshes of whisky
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
the seams of her dress
unthreading in the brilliance
from a thousand suns
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
crisp October air—
she hikes the mountain pathway
breathing clouds of frost
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
shattered glass and thorns—
beneath her feet these tokens
of the way to come

 
Haiku © 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #274
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #29