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Release the Horses
Release the horses into the deep,
Water the foxes until they sleep.
Necks of the foxes? Smell them with fear!
Horses’ hooves pounding? Get out of here!
Things that you’ve owned? Not destined to stay!
Things that you cherish? Fading away!
Sending this quickly, only one time—
May you find truth somewhere in this rhyme.
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #237
More Poetry Pantry #498 at Poets United
Observe the Maggots
~~ ~~ 1 ~~ ~~
Observe the maggots; climb the stairs;
Smell the coffee; ignore grey hairs;
Your cup is full, you need no more—
Go forth in peace, and close the door.
~~ ~~ 2 ~~ ~~
Enough is enough, fool on the hill;
Hush all your babbling, and just be still.
~~ ~~ 3 ~~ ~~
The one who leaves will return,
Having seen the mountain burn,
And the crocus will rejoice
When it hears the master’s voice.
~~ ~~ 4 ~~ ~~
Neck and neck the horses run,
Uphill, downhill, just for fun.
Poems © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #173
More Poetry Pantry #414 at Poets United
Gloomy Day
A gloomy winter day,
a day for looking forward
to the promise of spring
when everything
(yes, even stones)
begins to soften
and flowers give off
an achingly wonderful fragrance.
She can smell them already—
grape hyacinths, daffodils and tulips—
or is that the dish detergent?
Suddenly a cargo truck roars by
in the street outside her window,
jolting her out of her reverie.
“How easy to act the fool,”
she murmurs to her cat,
then scrubs the crust
from her only plate.
More Sunday’s Whirligig #139
More Poetry Pantry #380 at Poets United
The cup
The sprinklers go round
and round and round.
You smell the water
as it streams over the lawn
over the flowers,
over your afternoon languor,
over you.
How damp you are!
How tangled your hair!
You undress yourself,
and find that you are thirsty.
Someone fills a cup
sitting empty on the shelf.
Someone fills a cup
with salt and lemons,
setting your mind aflame
with poetry, not prose.
Someone fills a cup,
and you drink deep
and deeper.
Someone fills a cup,
and the cup
is
you.
More Sunday’s Whirligig #130
More Poetry Pantry #372 at Poets United
Disparate Tales
Fallen leaf, Oak Creek Canyon, Sedona, Arizona
~~ 1 ~~
three kids on the run
deciding which bus to take—
their furtive glances
~~ 2 ~~
during the first hymn
an old woman coughs in church—
the alto just glares
~~ 3 ~~
swinging the scissors
from one hand to the other—
ambidextrous boy
~~ 4 ~~
wilderness matins—
the liturgy of weirdness
in a lizard’s tail
~~ 5 ~~
after last night’s storm
the smell of white flower heads
battered by hailstones
~~ 6 ~~
autumn afternoon—
the old Chevy’s clicking valves
keeping cricket time
~~ 7 ~~
dabbing away tears
after the graveside service—
the sergeant’s widow
Haiku © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Macro Monday 2
More Sunday’s Whirligig #87
More Poetry Pantry #330 at Poets United
Whirling with Fay
Each haiku begins with a phrase shamelessly purloined from various haiku in Fay Aoyagi’s In Borrowed Shoes.
~~ 1 ~~
Hole in my sweater—
the shopping list I scribbled
slips between loose threads.
~~ 2 ~~
shadow with no name
in a channel of the shelf
holding holy books
~~ 3 ~~
snip of the scissors—
her seven-years-long ennui
resisting the cut
~~ 4 ~~
A custody case
condemns their children to death
by separation.
~~ 5 ~~
day for flying kites—
an inky one soars higher
than all the others
~~ 6 ~~
heat of the stone wall
still warming the lone fly’s wings
long after day’s end
~~ 7 ~~
first dandelions
and the smell of fresh-mown grass—
snow-day memories
~~ 8 ~~
For the butterfly
a single open blossom
will suffice for lunch.
~~ 9 ~~
A praying mantis—
will he soon capitulate
to the bumblebee?
~~ 10 ~~
Red quince blooming—
further delay makes no sense
to the hungry bee.
~~ 11 ~~
Morning glory seeds—
one of them will generate
a thousand blossoms.
~~ 12 ~~
a story inside
to render children speechless—
pomegranate seed
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Poetry Pantry #234
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 195
