Blog Archives

Alligator Near the Tree: Silly Songs for Sunday


Alligator near the tree,
Are you peeking out at me?
What will happen if I blink,
Alligator in the sink?
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
The firecrackers fizzle out after getting wet.
The outline of the walrus becomes a silhouette.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
These hobbits cannot walk straight,
Yet silently they glide
On their hairy little feet
While weaving side to side.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Would you prefer I signal
With a spark or with a flame
As I contemplate the traits
That make you wild and not tame?

 
Poems © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #168
 
More Poetry Pantry #409 at Poets United
 

Seasons

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~~ 1 ~~
 
summer’s first new moon
keeping her awake for hours
in a bed of stars
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
first night of the year
her modest white kimono
falling to the floor—
in a separate chamber
soft notes from a bamboo flute
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
little hanging lamps
connected to the plum trees
with frayed bungee cords—
asleep beneath the blossoms
a beggar takes his last breath
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
drought-stricken pasture
a signal to the horses
that smoke will follow—
even now you can hear them
bickering amongst themselves

 
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #264
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #19

In the Soul’s Pasture

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~~ 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

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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

This, That, and the Other

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~~ 1 ~~
 
potter’s field at dusk
weed husks rattle in the wind—
sound of passing spring
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
Did the Buddha laugh
as he lost himself in bliss
underneath the tree?
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
old men aspiring
to make one last pilgrimage—
voice of the donkey
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
From beneath a tree
Buddha rises with the sun—
sparrows call his name.
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
For personal use
you need one small point of light
to pierce the darkness.
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
too many late nights—
insatiable appetite
for silence and wine
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
Why is the prophet
flaunting flamboyant blue robes
this day of mourning?
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
in Jethro’s garden
jumbled among the roses
jewelweed in bloom
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
The potato fields
never disclose their secrets
to the corn and beans.
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
seductive side roads—
a major irritation
on the long journey
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
garlands of flowers
to signal weary pilgrims
that they have arrived
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
Easily they tire,
those who have no stamina,
on the narrow way.

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #212
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 172