Blog Archives

Five Haiku: Spring Firsts


1
Spring’s first bitterness—
the church on top of the hill
is consumed by fire.
 
2
First small joy of spring—
at the bike store a young boy
gets a bargain price.
 
3
First Sunday of spring—
a worn, but polished, church bell
rings out loud and clear.
 
4
Spring’s first disaster—
the smoke-drenched walls of the bar
tell a fiery tale.
 
5
Spring’s first conundrum—
stand below the fire station,
tell me what you see.

 
Haiku © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #258
 
More Writers’ Pantry #12 at Poets and Storytellers United

Observe the Maggots


 
~~ ~~ 1 ~~ ~~
 
Observe the maggots; climb the stairs;
Smell the coffee; ignore grey hairs;
Your cup is full, you need no more—
Go forth in peace, and close the door.
 
~~ ~~ 2 ~~ ~~
 
Enough is enough, fool on the hill;
Hush all your babbling, and just be still.
 
~~ ~~ 3 ~~ ~~
 
The one who leaves will return,
Having seen the mountain burn,
And the crocus will rejoice
When it hears the master’s voice.
 
~~ ~~ 4 ~~ ~~
 
Neck and neck the horses run,
Uphill, downhill, just for fun.

 
Poems © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #173
 
More Poetry Pantry #414 at Poets United
 

Blossoming

Blue house photo GTObluehouse_zpsa39c9c4a.jpg
Buildings perched on a hillside, Guanajuato, México
 


season by season
the rainbow-colored buildings
blossom on the hill

 
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Blue Monday
 
More Carpe Diem: “Inspired by Jim Kacian”

Whirling with Walt

168 photo 168_zps5cb68022.jpg
 
The first line of each three-line snippet comes from “Song of Myself” by Walt Whitman.
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
the eyes of the dead,
blind to beauty and blessing,
staring at nothing
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
knowing the perfect
candle to banish darkness—
only damp matches
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
eddies of the wind
on a mission for the storm
rising in the west
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
The shelves are crowded
with things simple and complex—
have you need of more?
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
choosing a safe spot,
perhaps your arms for the night,
before moving on
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
She owns the fine house
at the tip of the cape, where
no one is welcome.
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
on the granite floor
rivers of fresh blood flowing
from the killing spree
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
In the little wells
where the prairie meets the hill,
blind creatures huddle.
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
with me on the grass
seven ragged musicians
playing haunting tunes
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
Leaving me baskets
filled with ripe apples and rain,
she slips out to sea.
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
The little one sleeps,
caring nothing for the ghosts
that would torment her.
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
Stall in the market—
an image of St. Joseph
stirs among the spoons.

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #208
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 168