Blog Archives
Haibun: Imagine
Imagine that you can go back in time to when you first loved the sound of rain in the night, or when you first identified the singing of the thrush. I know what you’re thinking: I’ll always be stuck in the here-and-now. But you don’t have to be. Imagine!
In the autumn woods
a tree stump becomes a throne
for an aging queen.
More The Whirligig #289
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon
More Writers’ Pantry #43 at Poets and Storytellers United
To Flatten the Curve
To flatten the curve, don’t go anywhere—
Not the hills or the plains; get used to long hair.
Maybe you’ll tango, and maybe you won’t,
But when nighttime comes, don’t go out, just don’t.
Tell your young nephew: “I want to stay here;
It’s safer that way, you know it is, dear.
This won’t last forever, though now it seems black;
But here’s where we are, dear, there’s no turning back.
Let’s brush off our tears, child; now give me your hand—
We’ll pray that this Covid will flee from our land.”
Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More The Whirligig #278
More Writers’ Pantry #32 at Poets and Storytellers United
Quickly the Night Comes
Quickly the night comes, sending out stars;
Children stuff lightning bugs into jars.
The bat chasing bugs will stop for a rest
After it catches the last pesky pest.
Ripples of darkness spread over the pond—
Shadows envelop each leafy palm frond.
Invisible creatures run to and fro—
We’d see them if they were running in snow.
Quietly, dear, let me sing you a song;
Moths near the streetlight won’t be there long.
The night is far gone, but not my love, dear—
Here at the frog pond I think that is clear.
In daylight or darkness, winter or spring,
I’ll sing by the pond, dear, to you I will sing.
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
Ask the Bucket
Ask the bucket what it knows;
Ask the water where it flows.
Call the fish forth from the stream;
Call the widow from her dream.
Tap the teapot, swirl the tea;
Tap the night dreams, flowing free.
Wash the dishes, light the lamp;
Wash your face, but leave it damp.
Climb the stairs up to the roof,
Climb, because you need no proof
That your life’s about to end—
Ah, I wish you well, my friend!
Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #180
More Poetry Pantry #421 at Poets United
The Night Nursing Staff (and Other Delights)
~~ ~~ 1 ~~ ~~
The night nursing staff—poor, overworked dears—
Are feeling the need to down a few beers.
~~ ~~ 2 ~~ ~~
Cluck as you gallop away on your horse,
Blast your opponents, and chart a new course.
~~ ~~ 3 ~~ ~~
Dreaming of bodies that don’t look like mine
Helps me remember that we’re all divine.
~~ ~~ 4 ~~ ~~
Fathers and sons and ghosts that are holy—
When they play soccer, who serves as goalie?
~~ ~~ 5 ~~ ~~
The donkey starved at midnight and died against the wall.
For want of hay and water, the donkey gave his all.
Poems © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #174
More Poetry Pantry #415 at Poets United
A Scream in the Night
A scream in the night!
Whose voice did I hear?
Was it a banshee?
It sounded so near—
Too near for comfort,
Too close to my head;
I think I will run
And hide in my bed.
Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Scream”
At your touch
at your touch on this cold night
I lean into your hair
which smells of moons and stars
gratefully inhaling the scent
that makes me tipsy
as a hummingbird
too full of nectar
the faces of our children
not yet born
will glow with wonder
when we tell this story
thirty years from now
and they will tell it to their children
speaking in hushed voices:
how a farmer loved his wife
through sixty years of drought and plenty
while suns and stars and planets
kept whirling round the fields
and wistful neighbors spoke with reverence
of the fertile pair
More Sunday’s Whirligig #144
More Poetry Pantry #386 at Poets United
Uncommon Questions
What do night, an owl, and a rose
have in common?
Do the birds know what caused
the sun to rise this morning?
If you found the caws of crows
in an oak tree,
would you leave them there
or put them in your pocket?
Why are you perched in the oak,
ready to flee?
More Sunday’s Whirligig #133
More Poetry Pantry #375 at Poets United
Blue Monday
Discarded soft drink cup, Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
Someone tossed a drink cup
Many moons ago,
Tossed it in the bushes,
Where no wind could blow.
Now the battered drink cup,
Fading and forlorn,
Still sits in the bushes
Night and noon and morn.
Poem and photo © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
Magical Mystical Teacher 