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A Bit of Sunday Morning Nonsense

Minus your face, dear, you bring me to tears.
A spot of confetti seems to last years.
The grit in the ashes soon turns to brass;
Shelves in my memory shatter like glass.
Come here, my darling, and bring me more wine;
Bear with my foolishness, make my face shine!

Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #236
More Poetry Pantry #497 at Poets United

Tell everyone

Tell everyone
how the whole
works better
than a part.
on the right hook
for your story
(keep it short,
keep it sharp)
and you’ll catch
what you wish,
not fish
but people
with an appetite
for truth—
they’ll spot it
on your hook
and take the bait.


Poem © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #135
More Poetry Pantry #377 at Poets United


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Ironwood tree in bloom, Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona

Among the blossoms
one vies with the crescent moon
for a brighter spot.

Haiku and photo © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Macro Monday 2
More Poetry Pantry #311
More Sunday Scribblings 2: “Among”
More Carpe Diem’s Summer Retreat 2016: “One with Nature”

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