Blog Archives
Weird Little Tales
winter afternoon—
a rich layer of new snow
blanketing the earth
~~ ~~ ~~
In weary silence
she gazes into the flames,
seeking an omen.
~~ ~~ ~~
nothing fancier
than her cream-colored straw hat
with its pink ribbon
~~ ~~ ~~
A wooden clothespin—
she touches it to her tongue
and then to her palms.
~~ ~~ ~~
Over her shoulder
she tosses a tangerine,
hoping for good luck.
~~ ~~ ~~
Spiteful old women
hurl curses at their husbands
for small transgressions.
~~ ~~ ~~
Through a small window
she sees the plural of goose
landing on the pond.
~~ ~~ ~~
A life for herself—
no more peeling potatoes,
she thinks with a sigh.
Haiku © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #146
More Poetry Pantry #388 at Poets United
Fire
Beavertail Cactus (Opuntia basilaris) in bloom, April 2015, Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, Southern California
fire on the mountain—
perhaps a holy presence
making itself known
~~ ~~ ~~
mountain fire
holy the presence
burning bright
~~ ~~ ~~
among the flames
holiness
burning
Text and photo © 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More SkyWatch Friday
More Ruby Tuesday Too
More Our World Tuesday
More Haiku Horizons: “Fire”
More Carpe Diem: “Writing in 5-7-5; 3-5-3; freestyle”
Whirling with ‘The Roosevelts’
Each vignette begins with a phrase culled from Episode 5 of “The Roosevelts,” a PBS production by Ken Burns.
~~ 1 ~~
in the evening light
their faces suffused with joy
from the vin rosé
~~ 2 ~~
along the main street
one with no identity
stumbling block by block
~~ 3 ~~
ramshackle houses—
brittle sticks and broken glass
swaying in the wind
~~ 4 ~~
spread out on the floor
cold ashes from the fireplace—
wise ones heed the signs
~~ 5 ~~
Along the back roads
she hopes to pick a posy
for the one she loves.
~~ 6 ~~
no longer willing
to set aside discernment—
the terrified monk
~~ 7 ~~
in its suffering
the nation offering youth
to the flames of war
~~ 8 ~~
a soft leather glove
filled with a hand without fear—
scarecrow in the corn
~~ 9 ~~
chalk on a boxcar
denoting lot of tractors
bound for South Sudan
~~ 10 ~~
preachers and teachers
selfless servants of the race
still they go astray
~~ 11 ~~
To finish the job
they polarize the nation
into warring camps.
~~ 12 ~~
Immortal Dante,
how you love to guide us still
through the inferno.
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Poetry Pantry #220
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 180
Boundless
Ceramic tile chile (official New Mexico spelling!), Roxaboxen Park, Yuma, Arizona
boundless harvest—
baskets brim with chiles
flames devour tongues
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Blue Monday
More Macro Monday 2
More Ruby Tuesday Too
More I Heart Macro at Shine the Divine
More Carpe Diem Special: “Boundless Autumn”
Still Life
This week’s words: flames, yearn, immeasurable, safe, inky, bend, waking, still, erode, clay, sheet, pebble
The first line of each haiku or senryu below is taken from Shu Ting‘s poem “The Singing Flower,” translated from the Chinese by Carolyn Kizer.
I return to you
at dawn when you are waking—
still your door is locked.
~~ ~~ ~~
Pounding at your door,
immeasurable horror
still clutches my heart.
~~ ~~ ~~
Sit in the darkness—
as you brush the blue clay bowl,
bid your heart be still.
~~ ~~ ~~
On a speeding train
hurtling through the inky night—
be still, my wild heart.
~~ ~~ ~~
Permit me to dream
of the things I still care about—
flames in the plum tree.
~~ ~~ ~~
My little basket
still holds a pebble and plum—
the plum is for you.
~~ ~~ ~~
Your singing flower
cannot make me yearn for you—
still I will listen.
~~ ~~ ~~
Come in the morning
when I am still ripe with sleep—
bend me to your lips.
~~ ~~ ~~
I reserve the right
to keep myself safe from you—
are you still amazed?
~~ ~~ ~~
in the barley fields
harvesters still swinging scythes—
a sheet of lightning
~~ ~~ ~~
My poems travel
in orbits that erode words—
still, they can be read.
~~ ~~ ~~
Guided by flowers,
I am still finding my way
fragrance by fragrance.
© 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Poetry Pantry #173
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 132
