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No Saddle
gazing at the text
from her lover far away—
a taste of honey
~~ ~~ ~~
stifling afternoon
without the cooling breezes
she was hoping for
~~ ~~ ~~
Sweltering June day—
the old abbot stubs his toe
near the temple gate.
~~ ~~ ~~
nursing home at dusk—
the glint in her eyes dimming
as she sees the end
~~ ~~ ~~
no saddle, no reins
on the untamed horse called death—
her wild ride forward
Haiku © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #167
More Poetry Pantry #408 at Poets United
The Dance
Dandelion, Apache County, Arizona
Noon.
A stone by the road
sets the scene
for the dance.
Farther down the road
a man without elbows
plays a flute
with his feet,
panting out wild notes,
and the desert,
which has waited
since it was created,
begins to stir.
Could anything
be harder
than shrugging off the eons
to shimmy in the sun?
More Macro Monday 2
More Sunday’s Whirligig #106
More Poetry Pantry #348 at Poets United
Six for Sunday
Unusually early blossoms on a palo verde tree, November 2016, Yuma County, Arizona
~~ 1 ~~
words to nourish me
on this November morning—
a poem by Keats
~~ 2 ~~
Sing, little sparrow!
How could I despise your voice
this frosty morning?
~~ 3 ~~
This frosty morning
I am dumb before the wren
and its trills of grief.
~~ 4 ~~
Without any means
to support itself, the wren
enriches my life.
~~ 5 ~~
noise at the corner—
a thousand hungry blackbirds
clamoring for crumbs
~~ 6 ~~
joyful not plaintive—
the voice of the old woman
at her husband’s grave
Haiku © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Macro Monday 2
More Sunday’s Whirligig #86
More Poetry Pantry #329 at Poets United
Without
Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
without potatoes
a great hunger in the land—
these dusty acres
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More SkyWatch Friday
More Carpe Diem: “Jim Kacian’s ‘Harvest Dusk'”
How Many Badgers
How many badgers are wise enough to thrive on city streets?
Can things that hum and swarm in the forest live without tasting blood?
Are there passions storming the heart’s dark corners that no one dares mention?
It is enough, child, to believe in the magic of unicorns.
It is enough, old man, to walk through the desert at night, singing to the stars.
How will the bat that hangs in the belfry elude the tolling bell?
How will the creature with no legs jump to safety when the owl drops from the sky?
How can Jesus calm the surging sea with words when he has no tongue?
It is enough, child, while I am with you, to keep hunting the elusive unicorn.
It is enough, old man, to sing every night to the stars.
More Poetry Pantry #210
More Sunday Scribblings 2: “Wise”
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 170
