Everything stirs up my blood:
Leaves and grass, and squishy mud.
Dancers in the field don’t need
Anything but chicken feed.
Don’t give garbage to your cow!
Stop this nonsense, stop it now!
I wish I could see the light;
Hear bees whisper, “It’s all right.”
More The Whirligig #263
More Writers’ Pantry #17 at Poets and Storytellers United
In a field of strange surprises, one chipped cup appears;
Yellow roses near the lip have faded with the years.
A clothesline pinned with tables, along with rusty tools,
Earns heaps of raw derision from mouths of Sunday fools.
They say the world is flooding and seas are black with ink.
But who knows what the truth is, and who knows what to think?
The end of time’s upon us, and dust coats every shelf.
But what’s the use of cleaning? Just leave that to the elf.
More The Whirligig #260
More Writers’ Pantry #14 at Poets and Storytellers United
Santa Fe National Cemetery, New Mexico
Wild asters, Apache County, Arizona
Yucca transitioning from blossom to seedpod, Navajo National Monument, Northern Arizona
part of a rice field—
in an intimate corner
two women undress
~~ ~~ ~~
the naked women
in one patch of the rice field—
~~ ~~ ~~
jagged rice stubble—
no place for their lovemaking
in the harvest field
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Carpe Diem: “Basho’s ‘One Patch of a Rice Field'”
More Three Word Wednesday: “Intimate, Jagged, Thirst”
Subtle early morning shadows steal across agricultural land, Yuma County, Arizona
Melon blossom, Southern California
Each little poem-breath begins with a phrase purloined from Maya Angelou’s “Caged Bird.” Maya Angelou died on 28 May 2014.
~~ 1 ~~
On the grave of dreams
place a thousand paving stones—
let no wraiths escape.
~~ 2 ~~
the fat worms waiting
as the tractor keeps plowing—
~~ 3 ~~
on the distant hill
a fireworks launch at bedtime
children ooh and ah
~~ 4 ~~
the back of the wind
carrying a pungent scent
through my open door
~~ 5 ~~
with a fearful trill
and flapping of sturdy wings
cormorant nabs fish
~~ 6 ~~
Through the sighing trees
a lean and fluid roebuck
flees the hunter’s bow.
~~ 7 ~~
Till the current ends,
I have no need to propel
my raft with a pole.
~~ 8 ~~
He opens his throat,
spilling out jovial notes,
gracing all who hear.
~~ 9 ~~
Through his bars of rage
he glimpses freedom’s terrain—
one breath out of reach.
~~ 10 ~~
In the orange sun
seven crows chase each other,
~~ 11 ~~
of another breeze
piping countless melodies—
why the caged bird sings
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Poetry Pantry #204
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 163
Beavertail Cactus (Opuntia basilaris) blossom, Yuma Conservation Garden, Yuma, Arizona