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Four Haiku


at the water’s edge
the saved wait to be baptized—
old-time religion
 
 
shadows by the bridge
sculpted from hollowed-out light—
great blue heron’s cry
 
 
feet follow cinders
leading to the temple gate
a place of great grace
 
 
fingers framed by light
clutching an old rosary
carved of human bone

 
 
Haiku © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #281
 
More Writers’ Pantry #35 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

In This Sizzling Heat: A Haibun


In this sizzling heat we feel as though we’re descending into hell. The river has shrunk into a thin sliver thread. Our grapes are turning brown. They need water. I cannot tell you how eagerly we look for a cloud—one cloud!—to bear even a few drops of rain to the grapes. The neighbor boy flies his kite. It casts a shadow over the dying grapes. But I’ve had enough of watching for clouds that never come. I dig out our passports. “Come on,” I say to my beloved, “we’re going to Norway where it’s cool and it rains. Oh, wait! Americans aren’t welcome in Europe these days. What a clusterf*ck!”


I can’t remember
the last time I quenched my thirst
from a mountain stream.

 

Haibun © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #274
 
More Writers’ Pantry #28 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Water or Chardonnay: A Weird Little Haibun


When the choice of drink is water or chardonnay, I usually take water. I don’t want to end up in some faraway place, sleeping under a bridge, and wonder how I got there. Nobody’s going to rescue me from my own stupidity. If someone asks why I prefer to eat by candlelight, I say, “It’s fine to dine in the dark, but the last time I tried that, I nearly ate my finger, mistaking it for a French fry. Don’t you think it’s important to be safe rather than sorry?”


Yellow butterfly,
will you meet me on the path
to the mountaintop?

 

Haibun © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #257
 
More Writers’ Pantry #11 at Poets and Storytellers United

Wine into Water


Water heals her wound
the evidence comes
as a scar blossoms in her flesh
like smoke rising
from burning leaves
it has been a long struggle
sometimes she dreams
of lying in her casket
when this nightmare is over
but for now her thoughts are clearing
maybe Jesus is turning her wine
into water

 
  

Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #243
 
More Pantry of Poetry and Prose #7 at Poets United

 

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
 

Welcome Every Word


Face the other way and write, write these words down fast:
Seizes, eases, water, gathers; then, write current last.
 
Other words than these might do, or possibly, might not.
Thus be ready always, friend, to change your poem’s plot.
 
In pursuit of poetry, you take what fate doles out.
Welcome every word’s arrival with a joyful shout!

 
  
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #228
 
More Poetry Pantry #491 at Poets United

Ask the Bucket


Ask the bucket what it knows;
Ask the water where it flows.
Call the fish forth from the stream;
Call the widow from her dream.
 
Tap the teapot, swirl the tea;
Tap the night dreams, flowing free.
Wash the dishes, light the lamp;
Wash your face, but leave it damp.
 
Climb the stairs up to the roof,
Climb, because you need no proof
That your life’s about to end—
Ah, I wish you well, my friend!

 
Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #180
 
More Poetry Pantry #421 at Poets United

Blackbird, O Blackbird


 
~~ ~~ 1 ~~ ~~
 
Blackbird, O blackbird,
at midnight in the garden,
who can see your wings?
 
~~ ~~ 2 ~~ ~~
 
Blackbird, O blackbird,
even the water trembles
when you start to sing.
 
~~ ~~ 3 ~~ ~~
 
Blackbird, O blackbird,
do you prefer the cypress
over the white rose?
 
~~ ~~ 4 ~~ ~~
 
Blackbird, O blackbird,
how many songs overflow
from your handsome throat?
 
~~ ~~ 5 ~~ ~~
 
Blackbird, O blackbird,
tell me what I need to know
to make your path mine.
 
~~ ~~ 6 ~~ ~~
 
Blackbird, O blackbird,
I search the chapel rooftop—
will I find you there?

 
Haiku © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #178
 
More Poetry Pantry #419 at Poets United

Still

Breakfast