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Jump-Rope Rhymes

Whether you divide or add,
Snow’s not green, you silly dad.
Breeze beneath the bright blue sky,
Teach me how to multiply.
Poppies then and poppies now,
Poppies for my uncle’s cow.
If an orange could subtract,
We’d be doomed—now, that’s a fact!

Couplets © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #181
More Poetry Pantry #422 at Poets United

Ruby Tuesday Too: Poppies

Memorial Day poppies decorate a veteran’s grave, Wellton Memorial Cemetery, Wellton, Arizona.
Photo © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher

To share your ruby shot, click on the Mister Linky icon below:


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~~ 1 ~~
ten million poppies
carpeting the soldiers’ graves
near the killing fields
~~ 2 ~~
innocent blood spilled
in a backstreet of Baghdad—
news at six o’clock
~~ 3 ~~
The soldier’s widow—
how can she ever forget
his empty left sleeve?
~~ 4 ~~
coastal snow flurries
in the middle of summer—
those wanton moments
~~ 5 ~~
summer wildflowers—
no one remembers the name
of the yellow ones
~~ 6 ~~
three dandelions
clutched in the little boy’s hand—
his Mother’s Day gift
~~ 7 ~~
aflame with desire
for something just out of reach—
teacakes under glass
~~ 8 ~~
single grain of rice
gracing the monk’s dinner plate—
enough, for a change
~~ 9 ~~
the stallion’s nostrils
flaring with indignation
at bit and bridle
~~ 10 ~~
a spool of white thread
covered with dust on the shelf—
seamstress in mourning
~~ 11 ~~
giving the old chair
another coat of varnish—
summer’s first full moon

Haiku © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Poetry Pantry #308
More Sunday’s Whirligig #65

Whirling On

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~~ 1 ~~
the shape of the bowl
carved from chrysanthemum roots—
how unsubstantial
~~ 2 ~~
first day of the year
bright and blue over Dublin
a seagull screeches
~~ 3 ~~
behind the green door
something stirring at nightfall—
thirteen bloody fangs
~~ 4 ~~
the flame that devours
bole and branch, leaf and limb—
how strange the story
~~ 5 ~~
rack near the toilet—
literary magazine
still crisp and unread
~~ 6 ~~
all her wishes for
his speedy recovery—
a turn for the worse
~~ 7 ~~
inklings of mercy
seeping from the holy book
onto her gnarled hands
~~ 8 ~~
ten million poppies
carpeting the soldiers’ graves—
distant Flanders fields
~~ 9 ~~
frivolous pursuits
sucking the life from her soul
dollar by dollar
~~ 10 ~~
the screeching wind
and swiftly rising ocean—
~~ 11 ~~
summer’s epilogue
written in the raven’s cry
and the falling leaf
~~ 12 ~~
barely audible
her voice inviting earwigs
to the garden feast

© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Poetry Pantry #224
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 184