Cups of tea increase our pleasure.
Moments that we cannot measure
Suddenly turn dark as coffee—
Are we craving English toffee?
Down we go, the house is shaking!
Moved by snow, there’s no mistaking
That an avalanche is sliding
Into places we’d be hiding
Were they splashed with gin or rum.
Aloud we pray: “Let no harm come!”
DISCLAIMER: This ditty is strictly the product of my overactive imagination.
More The Whirligig #249
More Writers’ Pantry #3 at Poets and Storytellers United
Let us decorate in silence
While the wind chimes ring with glee;
Let us warm ourselves with whisky
Splashed in steaming cups of tea.
It is plain our house needs something
To revive its heart and soul;
Let us lift a glass in hope, dear,
Nibbling cake and jelly roll.
Far too long we’ve had too little
And our home has had no heat;
Let us eat some peanut brittle,
Then our joy will be complete.
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
What flag do you fly at your house,
Professor Thelonious Mouse?
A flag that’s brand-new
Is right for a shrew,
But an old flag works for a louse.
Limerick © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “National Flag(s)”
Abandoned house, Yuma County, Arizona
The bedroom of my childhood
Now shelters only mice;
The little house, neglected,
Long, long ago looked nice.
On weekends I still go there,
But only in my mind,
For memory now serves me
In ways both true and kind.
Poem © 2017 and photo © 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Nostalgia”
“I hear America singing,” Walt Whitman wrote, “the varied carols I hear.”
I too hear singing, but instead of songs coming from throats of carpenters, masons or boatmen, I hear the songs of sky and star and stone. The songs of weeds and wind and wild things. The songs of crow and cricket and cottonwood. All these songs come from the high desert, and like the Siren songs that seduced Odysseus and his companions, I cannot ignore them.
I hear them as I help a student proofread her essay. I hear them while I confer with a parent about his son’s behavior. I hear them while I am grading papers.
At day’s end, I slip into comfortable clothing and walk into the nearby wilderness. The stones and weeds and dust greet me with rejoicing. They knew I would come.
three stones confer with the wind—
my house is too small
Revised haibun © 2016 and photo © 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Poetry Pantry #323 at Poets United
Sagging wooden doors, Santa Fe, New Mexico
opening the doors
only to close them again—
house of smothered dreams
Haiku © 2016 and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Open/Openness”
Cattle Track Arts Compound, Scottsdale, Arizona
Old adobe building, Santa Rosa Plateau Ecological Preserve, Riverside County, California
Metal sculpture, Cattle Track Arts Compound, Scottsdale, Arizona
first days of the year—
visiting the sculptor’s house
for the seventh time
Haiku and photo © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Shadow Shot Sunday 2