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In the Soul’s Pasture
~~ 1 ~~
in the soul’s pasture
three dappled horses grazing
on errant starfire
~~ 2 ~~
in the soul’s pasture
a signal from the horses
that smoke will follow
~~ 3 ~~
In the soul’s pasture
a rose of hope is blooming,
nourished by God’s grace.
~~ 4 ~~
in the soul’s pasture
a plant of boundless mercy—
food for hungry ones
~~ 5 ~~
In the soul’s pasture
the dismal and forsaken
find themselves again.
~~ 6 ~~
In the soul’s pasture
tiny, meandering streams
quench the pilgrim’s thirst.
~~ 7 ~~
In the soul’s pasture
bombs and bullets melt away—
plowshares take their place.
~~ 8 ~~
in the soul’s pasture
a spot where tumbleweeds thrive
threatening to spread
~~ 9 ~~
In the soul’s pasture
a ball of mud is lying
mid the sweet grasses.
~~ 10 ~~
In the soul’s pasture,
although some locks are rusted,
others turn with ease.
~~ 11 ~~
In the soul’s pasture
three pilgrims thrust and parry
with their wooden swords.
~~ 12 ~~
In the soul’s pasture,
somewhere near the edge of time,
pipers play a dirge.
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 177
More Sunday Scribblings 2: “In the Soul’s Pasture”
Another Whirl with Basho
Each haiku or senryu begins with a phrase culled from Basho: The Complete Haiku.
~~ 1 ~~
upstream and downstream
the dismal washerwomen
beating clothes on stones
~~ 2 ~~
the tide’s salty crests
signal an end to summer
and my discontent
~~ 3 ~~
whose old singing voice
moves into the empty spot
where the oak once stood
~~ 4 ~~
those who like to drink
rose-petal tea at twilight
sipping at their prayers
~~ 5 ~~
gotten by praying
to the goddess of bullets
an untimely death
~~ 6 ~~
from an unknown tree
at the edge of the forest
the cry of water
~~ 7 ~~
even coming twice
the horses seeking sugar
do not get enough
~~ 8 ~~
a bamboo thicket
where no other plant can thrive
rictus of the moon
~~ 9 ~~
without rain or snow
the empty meandering
of mountain streambeds
~~ 10 ~~
year-end housecleaning
even the locks on my doors
deserve to be brushed
~~ 11 ~~
the cicada’s voice
curls into a tiny ball
just before sunrise
~~ 12 ~~
from all directions
my foes thrust their spears at me
shafts of pampas grass
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Poetry Pantry #217
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 177
Magical Mystical Teacher 