Category Archives: The Sunday Whirl

It’s in the Bag

174 photo 174_zps286c9f96.jpg
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
an old demimonde
brown paper bag in her hand
munching stale bonbons
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
bag of oranges
spilling on the kitchen floor—
mouse runs for cover
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
rainy afternoon—
groping for her knitting bag
in the grey half-light
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
in the asylum
inmates picking through a bag
of cast-off clothing
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
in a marketplace
somewhere east of Africa
wisdom by the bag
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
for her transgression
a silken bag of demons
slicing up her heart
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
abomination—
a paper bag of dog shit
tossed on my front porch
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
for wannabe men
seventeen rites of passage
hidden in a bag
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
the old believer’s
unwavering allegiance
to God’s bag of tricks
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
everlasting shame—
nothing grand about the bag
that holds his jewels
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
candle in a bag
sending out a feeble light
on this holy eve
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
how she fears to be
reborn as a cricket’s leg
or an empty bag
 
~~ 13 ~~
 
(myself)

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #214
 
More Sunday Scribblings 2: “Bag”
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 174

Safe

 photo 173_zpsf544b713.jpg
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
safe from prying eyes
one straight line of a love note
hidden in a book
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
safe from prying eyes
the limit of her patience
with its fraying edge
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
safe from prying eyes
a lane ensconced in shadows
somewhere in south Wales
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
safe from prying ears
the sound of wasted water
dripping down a drain
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
safe from prying eyes
all the pornographic parts
snipped and snapped and tossed
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
safe from prying eyes
forgotten case of whisky
underneath the stairs
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
safe from prying eyes
the old farmhouse east of town
where black widows weave
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
safe from prying eyes
a single grain of sugar
underneath the bowl
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
safe from prying eyes
children hidden in the reeds
near the river’s bend
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
safe from prying eyes
the way that leads from bondage
through a parting sea
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
safe from prying ears
the sound of Gaza’s mothers
weeping for their dead

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #213
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 173
 
More Sunday Scribblings 2: “Safe from Prying Eyes”

This, That, and the Other

172 photo 172_zpseee682c6.jpg
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
potter’s field at dusk
weed husks rattle in the wind—
sound of passing spring
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
Did the Buddha laugh
as he lost himself in bliss
underneath the tree?
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
old men aspiring
to make one last pilgrimage—
voice of the donkey
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
From beneath a tree
Buddha rises with the sun—
sparrows call his name.
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
For personal use
you need one small point of light
to pierce the darkness.
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
too many late nights—
insatiable appetite
for silence and wine
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
Why is the prophet
flaunting flamboyant blue robes
this day of mourning?
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
in Jethro’s garden
jumbled among the roses
jewelweed in bloom
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
The potato fields
never disclose their secrets
to the corn and beans.
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
seductive side roads—
a major irritation
on the long journey
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
garlands of flowers
to signal weary pilgrims
that they have arrived
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
Easily they tire,
those who have no stamina,
on the narrow way.

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #212
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 172

Places

171 photo 171_zps5d128baa.jpg
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
A place of her own,
where she can dabble in words—
this is all she asks.
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
Three blasts of the horn—
again she loses her place
reading Hemingway.
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
She loses her place,
yet a new pathway unfolds,
tugging at her feet.
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
In her stained blue dress
she is not sure of her place
among the sisters.
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
In this hallowed place
she rests for an hour or two
before moving on.
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
A place of shining
in the center of darkness—
this is all she asks.
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
The thrill of the hunt
to find a place of her own
keeps driving her on.
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
Knick-knack paddy-whack—
isn’t there another place
that she could call home?
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
She devotes her skill
to finding the perfect place
to keep her secrets.
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
Her secrets in place,
she resolves not to reveal
them to anyone.
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
In this shallow place,
where nothing is asked of her,
she has found a home.

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #211
 
More Sunday Scribblings 2: “Place”
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 171

How Many Badgers

170 photo 170_zps08a6628d.jpg

 
 
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.

 

© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #210
 
More Sunday Scribblings 2: “Wise”
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 170

Whirling All Over

 photo 169_zps7534656a.jpg
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
over the yogurt
she lays a piece of muslin
to keep flies at bay
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
seven flavors of
manufactured excuses
dripping from her tongue
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
tonight’s harvest moon
on this side of the river—
such a tiny coin
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
geese in the millions
drowning the eastern flyway
with their plaintive honks
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
an ancient pilgrim
forgetting her arthritis
on the sacred hike
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
feathers of brown birds
shot from black cannons at dawn—
how the West was won
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
perhaps the turtle
making low sounds in its throat
thinks dogs will cower
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
The storytellers
make room for one another,
using fragrant words.
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
writing a letter
with lackluster paragraphs—
the same dusty words
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
In his own country
no one honors the prophet—
even ravens mock.
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
One cry from the crow
beguiles the lunar eclipse
into shrinking back.
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
Cheeky ones go pale
whenever Jesus appears,
circumcising hearts.

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #209
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 169

Whirling with Walt

168 photo 168_zps5cb68022.jpg
 
The first line of each three-line snippet comes from “Song of Myself” by Walt Whitman.
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
the eyes of the dead,
blind to beauty and blessing,
staring at nothing
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
knowing the perfect
candle to banish darkness—
only damp matches
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
eddies of the wind
on a mission for the storm
rising in the west
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
The shelves are crowded
with things simple and complex—
have you need of more?
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
choosing a safe spot,
perhaps your arms for the night,
before moving on
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
She owns the fine house
at the tip of the cape, where
no one is welcome.
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
on the granite floor
rivers of fresh blood flowing
from the killing spree
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
In the little wells
where the prairie meets the hill,
blind creatures huddle.
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
with me on the grass
seven ragged musicians
playing haunting tunes
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
Leaving me baskets
filled with ripe apples and rain,
she slips out to sea.
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
The little one sleeps,
caring nothing for the ghosts
that would torment her.
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
Stall in the market—
an image of St. Joseph
stirs among the spoons.

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #208
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 168

Seeking One Ripe Plum

167 photo 1671_zpsf79ecbb4.jpg
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
Seeking one ripe plum,
I approach the laden tree
with a grateful heart.
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
seeking one ripe plum
behind the blue pantry door—
no one has a key
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
Seeking one ripe plum
to split among my children—
each will taste a slice.
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
seeking one ripe plum
to the east of the grain field—
three crows menace me
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
seeking one ripe plum
to give to the single mom
in Apartment 3
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
Seeking one ripe plum
I scratch my head in wonder
before the gnarled tree.
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
seeking one ripe plum—
depending on the moon’s phase
I might find seven
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
seeking one ripe plum
while the player piano
rolls out tinkly tunes
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
seeking one ripe plum
for the youngest of my sons—
his birthday present
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
Seeking one ripe plum—
the glint in her eye tells me
she’ll split the bounty.
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
seeking one ripe plum
on a level garden path
wingless butterfly
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
seeking one ripe plum
while spiders attach their webs
to my eyes and ears

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #207
 
More Sunday Scribblings 2: “Plum”
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 167

Dreadful

Sunset Crater lava bed photo Sunsettreelava_zps74ef4f06.jpg
Hardened lava flow, Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument, Northern Arizona
 


dancing and praying
dark and dreadful shadows kiss
creature, cloud and stone

 
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Blue Monday
 
More Poetry Pantry #206
 
More Shadow Shot Sunday 2
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 166: “Dark, Praying, Dancing, Creature, Dreadful, Kiss “

Quirky Quartet

165 photo 1652_zps5f883d88.jpg
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
drilled into the cliff
six holes filled with misfortunes
borrowed from the trolls
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
a wish, a whistle,
a pit in which to drink ale—
chimneyside dreaming
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
porcelain habits
shatter into deadly shards—
caveat emptor
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
Split the percale sheet,
rip out the mattress stuffing—
darkness comes at noon.

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #205
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 165

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