Four Verses of Hope

1.
You are no stranger,
but both mother and father
nurturing me, Earth.
 
2.
One tiny white bloom—
all I need to give me joy
on this scorching day.
 
3.
A magical room—
here the foolish find wisdom
in a spider’s web.
 
4.
I hear a man’s voice
whispering these fragrant names:
lily, lotus, rose.

© 2022 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #379
 
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon
 
More Friday Writings #35 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Three Haiku as Autumn Deepens

1.
raking fallen leaves—
my ceremony to heal
the wounds of autumn
 
2.
a distant mirage—
the languid days of summer
when we sipped iced tea
 
3.
My dwelling’s empty,
so come, corn pollen laughter,
come, O mountain song!
 

/

© 2021 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #343
 
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon
 
More Friday Writings #1 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Summer

Summer
drew us away
from grief at dusk
as a courteous host
draws his guest
into the light
offering drinks
dinner
and conversation.
Who would want
to escape
such grace?
Only a moth
perhaps
with a broken wing.

 
 

Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #291
 
More Writers’ Pantry #45 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

The Summer of Braids

This is the summer of braids and bare feet;
We manage somehow to survive the heat.
 
Maybe some shifts in the shimmering line
Assure us we’re well, and all will be fine.
 
Maybe it’s magic, and maybe it’s not,
But suddenly things don’t seem quite so hot.
 
We look in the mirror, knowing we must,
And find we have enough faith to trust
 
That whatever comes again we can face
As long as our fingers reach out for grace.

 
 
Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #279
 
More Writers’ Pantry #33 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Three Weird Poems

 
~~ ~~ 1 ~~ ~~
 
Guests on the terrace, more guests in the hall—
Is there no way to get rid of them all?
Where did they come from, and when will they go?
The longer they stay here, the deeper my woe.
 
~~ ~~ 2 ~~ ~~
 
We fed some ducks in Iceland, and then we had a bite
Of something cold and glittering that made us feel uptight.
The teams upon the hillsides were just about to faint,
But suddenly revived themselves by slurping leaded paint.
The moral of this story, if moral there may be:
What is good for you, my friend, may not be good for me.
 
~~ ~~ 3 ~~ ~~
 
The swordsman’s blade was melting before his very eyes;
The axe man’s axe felt lighter than sunlight on mayflies;
The oak tree’s massive branches shrank to pencil-thin—
It was a creepy summer, and never should have been.

 
Poems © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #176
 
More Poetry Pantry #416 at Poets United