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The Darksome Poet


What rhymes with blue erasers? Nothing that I know.
Ask the thirty thirsty pencils that live down below.
 
Perhaps the smallest pencil is longer than you think,
And knows the word you’re looking for, written in red ink.
 
I believe that snips and scraps, at least not more than three,
Can be used to slit your throat, or make poetry.
 
I know my tale has ended in a dark and somber way,
But I am a darksome poet, so what more can I say?

 
  
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #215
 
More Poetry Pantry #481 at Poets United

Light

 photo OrganPipeAug2013348a_zps0668a14f.jpg
La Virgen de Guadalupe at a wayside shrine, Ajo, Arizona
 


in the dark places
of this tilting universe—
a light still shining

 
Haiku © 2016 and photo © 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Twelve Days of Mother Love, Day 1, at Recuerda Mi Corazon

Teaching Forever

 photo bcbb0eef-0106-4275-90b0-c63d4d78ab19_zps53dgkipt.jpg

 
 

Sometimes I think I can teach forever.
Sometimes the dark circles under my eyes
tell me that it’s foolish to try to teach one more hour.
Last night the angels of sleep
abandoned me,
interrupted my erotic dream,
laughed at me in my distress!
Now it’s five o’clock Monday morning
and I’m propping up my head with one hand
while writing this lament with the other.
I’d like to forget my lesson plans
and start reading a good book
until I fall asleep again,
waking up around noon
to write fragments of poetry
or a letter to a friend.
Instead, I have to eat breakfast, shower
and change into something suitable for work.
Then I have to drag my weary body
into my classroom where sixteen sullen students
with learning disabilities
will watch me impassively as I try to teach them
about figurative language:
Simi—what? Meta—who? Personifi—why?
We don’t care.

Is their theft of my time worth it,
their theft that leaves me wasted?
Today, probably not.
But tomorrow or the day after
something might change.
And that is the hope that keeps me going,
the grace that spurs me on,
even when all the light is gone
and all I want to do
is crawl back under the covers.

 

© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #272
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #27

Fawn

original
 
 photo Logo July 2015_zpsvlxlzprz.jpg
 


fawn on the mountain—
hunter hidden in the dark
raises his rifle
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
lonely little fawn
trying to nurse its mother
after the kill shot
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
no boring ending
to the story of the fawn—
a day of vengeance

 
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Carpe Diem: “Fawn”
 
More Three Word Wednesday: “Boring, Dark, Lonely”

Comfortless

Prickly poppy photo pricklypoppy3_zps1d4896e4.jpg
Prickly Poppy (Argemone pleiacantha), Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
 


poppy-petal tales
of a dark and thorny way
where no comforts lie

 
Text and photo © 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Macro Monday 2
 
More Carpe Diem: “Poppies”
 
More I Heart Macro at Shine the Divine

Dreadful

Sunset Crater lava bed photo Sunsettreelava_zps74ef4f06.jpg
Hardened lava flow, Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument, Northern Arizona
 


dancing and praying
dark and dreadful shadows kiss
creature, cloud and stone

 
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Blue Monday
 
More Poetry Pantry #206
 
More Shadow Shot Sunday 2
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 166: “Dark, Praying, Dancing, Creature, Dreadful, Kiss “

Thorny

 photo pricklypoppyseed_zpsd7e26901.jpg
Prickly Poppy (Argemone pleiacantha) seed pods at dawn, Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
 


It is difficult
on the dark and thorny way—
stories no one tells.

 
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More SkyWatch Friday
 
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon

Difficult

Prickly poppy photo pricklypoppy3_zps1d4896e4.jpg
Prickly Poppy (Argemone pleiacantha), Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
 


It is difficult
on the dark and thorny way—
stories no one tells.

 
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Shadow Shot Sunday 2
 
More Sunday Scribblings 2: “It Is Difficult”