Blog Archives

Field of Strange Surprises


In a field of strange surprises, one chipped cup appears;
Yellow roses near the lip have faded with the years.
 
A clothesline pinned with tables, along with rusty tools,
Earns heaps of raw derision from mouths of Sunday fools.
 
They say the world is flooding and seas are black with ink.
But who knows what the truth is, and who knows what to think?
 
The end of time’s upon us, and dust coats every shelf.
But what’s the use of cleaning? Just leave that to the elf.

 

Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #260
 
More Writers’ Pantry #14 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Seven Riffs on Leaves

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Cottonwood leaf in autumn, Apache County, Arizona.


 
~~ ~~ 1 ~~ ~~
 
A hole in the fence:
Will I be able to see
the oak leaves falling?
 
~~ ~~ 2 ~~ ~~
 
on the dusty end
of my workshop’s topmost shelf:
three leaves from the oak
 
~~ ~~ 3 ~~ ~~
 
How strange the patterns
made by ginkgo leaves falling
into the gutter!
 
~~ ~~ 4 ~~ ~~
 
Under the plum tree
a cardboard box fills with leaves—
how tattered they look!
 
~~ ~~ 5 ~~ ~~
 
Near the tube station
we slog through wet autumn leaves,
eager to be home.
 
~~ ~~ 6 ~~ ~~
 
wherever I turn
in the last days of autumn:
sodden maple leaves
 
~~ ~~ 7 ~~ ~~
 
pieces of old dreams
some of them with falling leaves
some of them with stones

 
Haiku © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #183
 
More Poetry Pantry #424 at Poets United

Lost

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A callejon (alleyway) in San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, México
 


Richard Wright’s haiku about being in a strange town is a familiar experience, and inspires me to write a new haiku:

 

I have lost my way
In a strange town at night—
A sky of old cold stars.

 
~~ ~~ ~~
 


A strange town at dawn—
if I take these cobbled steps,
will I find my way?

 
Haiku in bold and photo © 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Blue Monday
 
More Shadow Shot Sunday 2
 
More Carpe Diem: “Utabukuro #8”

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—
apocalyptic
 
~~ 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

Whirling with Richard Wright

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The first line of each haiku or senryu is taken from Haiku: This Other World by Richard Wright.
 
This week’s whirling words are: wayward, falling, frenzy, attack, sublime, strange, settle, rough, channel, ball, robust, life

 
 


An empty seashore—
not even wayward children
picking up stray shells.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Droning autumn rain,
falling since seven a.m.—
will it never cease?
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Faint sounds of a flute—
a frenzy of emotions
rising within me.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
A white butterfly
positioning for attack—
sunflower shudders.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Is it possible
for sublime conversations
to spawn violence?
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
In an April fog
three strange women are walking—
one begins to chant.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
The first day of spring,
wind roaring down from the north—
where will it settle?
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Just enough of moon
to smooth off the rough edges
of one splintered bone.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Which is more distant?
The channel through the mountains
or the ocean strand?
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
The scarecrow shudders
as a ball of mud hurtles
toward his straw-filled cheeks.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Pen me a letter,
robust, rich, and bristling with
Anglo-Saxon words.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Walking home alone,
the life I lived unraveled
strand by strand by strand.

 
© 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Poetry Pantry #108
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 67
 
More Carpe Diem: “Inspired by Richard Wright”