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I almost made it to the park


I almost made it to the park,
the one smelling like an
untamed jungle,
where wild things rub
against rough trees,
leaving little tufts of fur
clinging to the bark.
I almost made it to the park,
but the spirit of the night
nudged me toward ten
thousand constellations
rumbling through the sky,
and I could not help
but take two others with me,
strangers in the flesh,
but kindred spirits,
and we watched
Cassiopeia’s Crown
crumble into dust.

 

Poem © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #134
   
More Poetry Pantry #376 at Poets United

Six for Sunday

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Dried teasel, Yavapai County, Arizona
 
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
autumn afternoon—
in the park two young women
kissing each other
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
watching the old dog
try to lift his left hind leg
to spray the fire plug
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
unexpected breeze
throws my paper boat off course—
autumn afternoon
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
leaves in the tea bowl
sinking down to the bottom—
I heed the omen
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
impossible task—
keeping the stone on my back
while running 5k
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
my neighbor’s mongrel—
how perfectly she retrieves
the little red ball
 

 
Haiku © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Macro Monday 2
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #84
 
More Poetry Pantry #327 at Poets United

Destiny’s Tales

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~~ 1 ~~
 
tangled in the tree
two crimson kites with white tails—
seven startled wrens
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
old paper, fresh words
torn envelope the canvas
for brushing haiku
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
a brown paper bag
clutched in a child’s fist holding
all of creation
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
addled gardener
dropping her gloves in the path
as the wild goose calls
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
In her new language
she sings of running naked
through the April rain.
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
hoisting new lumber
onto his bruised right shoulder—
the builder of dreams
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
caught in the headlights
of a passing patrol car—
fumbling teenagers
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
On green park benches
old women wearing purple
celebrate the sun.
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
Far from the suburbs
an old woman is striding
toward her destiny.
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
walking through the woods
on her way to somewhere else—
rumblings of thunder
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
To open the book
she needs only a moment
and a trembling hand.

 
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #261
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #16

Present

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Someone left a stone at Roxaboxen Park, Yuma, Arizona. (Read why people leave stones at Roxaboxen.)
 


tiny painted stone
present in the children’s park—
gravel speaks in tongues

 
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Blue Monday
 
More Macro Monday 2
 
More Ruby Tuesday Too
 
More Haiku Horizons: “Present”
 
More I Heart Macro at Shine the Divine

Bench

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Bench in a small park, San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, México
 


bench along the way—
peregrine pilgrims pausing
to refresh their souls

 
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Shadow Shot Sunday 2