Blog Archives

Dark Sayings


Pour out libations of coffee
on the mountain.
Hand the longer straw
to the loser.
Soften tall buildings
with mystical solvent
until they topple.
Put a painting in each hand,
then toss them into the dumpster.
Do you still believe in miracles
after hearing these dark sayings?
How can your heart not be sad?
Even the blackbird is numb.

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #148
   
More Poetry Pantry #390 at Poets United

A Way Out

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Debris floats in a backyard fountain.

 

Trying to breathe in this place,
close to the source of my grief,
while coins thrown in the wishing well
are glimmering and turning—
such madness!
I feel my right foot slip, and then my left,
something tightens in my chest.
Be still, my heart!
You will find a way out!

 

Poem and photo © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Macro Monday 2
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #94
   
More Poetry Pantry #336 at Poets United

Still Life

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This week’s words: flames, yearn, immeasurable, safe, inky, bend, waking, still, erode, clay, sheet, pebble
 
The first line of each haiku or senryu below is taken from Shu Ting‘s poem “The Singing Flower,” translated from the Chinese by Carolyn Kizer.
 


I return to you
at dawn when you are waking—
still your door is locked.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Pounding at your door,
immeasurable horror
still clutches my heart.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Sit in the darkness—
as you brush the blue clay bowl,
bid your heart be still.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
On a speeding train
hurtling through the inky night—
be still, my wild heart.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Permit me to dream
of the things I still care about—
flames in the plum tree.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
My little basket
still holds a pebble and plum—
the plum is for you.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Your singing flower
cannot make me yearn for you—
still I will listen.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Come in the morning
when I am still ripe with sleep—
bend me to your lips.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
I reserve the right
to keep myself safe from you—
are you still amazed?
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
in the barley fields
harvesters still swinging scythes—
a sheet of lightning
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
My poems travel
in orbits that erode words—
still, they can be read.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Guided by flowers,
I am still finding my way
fragrance by fragrance.

 
© 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Poetry Pantry #173
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 132