Category Archives: poetry

One thing I ask


One thing I ask:
that I might know true love
before I have no strength,
and the undertaker measures
how long I am, my length,
for the coffin he’s prepared,
from which my waxen face
will stare at those who pass.
Is this desire wrong?
Am I a fool to ask?
It makes me rich to think of love—
thus, I write my song.

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #149
   
More Poetry Pantry #391 at Poets United

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Words Are Her Companions


Words are her companions,
She takes them everywhere:
Stone and pine and blackbird,
Porcupine and bear.
  
Words are her companions,
She hugs them to herself:
Living room, dining room,
Bathroom, kitchen shelf.
  
Words are her companions,
She treasures every one;
Verbs and prepositions
Roll right off her tongue
  
Along with a salacious
Adjective or two;
Words are her companions—
She knows what words can do!

  
Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
  
  
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Word”

Frogs

DSC_0339
A palm tree near the pond, Yuma Conservation Garden, Yuma, Arizona
 
 

Frogs, as I pass by your pond,
show me your beauty.
Come out of the mud.
Taste the clear night air.
Pretend to be stars or moonlight!
Sing to the flashing planets,
sing with your flickering tongues,
sing a song of sixpence,
fill your lungs with spring!

 

Poem © 2018 and photo © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Shadow Shot Sunday 2
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #147
   
More Poetry Pantry #389 at Poets United

At your touch


at your touch on this cold night
I lean into your hair
which smells of moons and stars
gratefully inhaling the scent
that makes me tipsy
as a hummingbird
too full of nectar
 
the faces of our children
not yet born
will glow with wonder
when we tell this story
thirty years from now
and they will tell it to their children
speaking in hushed voices:
 
how a farmer loved his wife
through sixty years of drought and plenty
while suns and stars and planets
kept whirling round the fields
and wistful neighbors spoke with reverence
of the fertile pair

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #144
   
More Poetry Pantry #386 at Poets United

The coast is clear


The coast is clear,
but the simple man knows
that the earth is about to ripple
from the inside out
and become a gigantic heap
of rubble.
 
Might as well bask in the sun
warming his bones
while he can.
Nothing to gain by putting it off.
 
In the throes of ecstasy
he peels off his clothes,
gets down on his knees,
and gives thanks,
despite the tumult to come.

 

Poem © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #142
   
More Poetry Pantry #383 at Poets United

Gloomy Day


A gloomy winter day,
a day for looking forward
to the promise of spring
when everything
(yes, even stones)
begins to soften
and flowers give off
an achingly wonderful fragrance.
She can smell them already—
grape hyacinths, daffodils and tulips—
or is that the dish detergent?
Suddenly a cargo truck roars by
in the street outside her window,
jolting her out of her reverie.
“How easy to act the fool,”
she murmurs to her cat,
then scrubs the crust
from her only plate.

 

Poem © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #139
   
More Poetry Pantry #380 at Poets United

A song rising


A song rising from the wheat stubble
makes air and light and worm take note.
 
The iron door of the silo clangs
in time with the music.
 
By order of an unseen conductor
the song on which your life and
mine hinge will never be over—
it goes on forever.
 
It blows in the wind,
it floats in the water,
it glows in the stars.
Forever.
Amen.

 

Poem © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #138
   
More Poetry Pantry #379 at Poets United

To the thief who stole my guitar:


I know that Jesus tells me to turn the other cheek
and to pray for them that persecute me.
But I deeply grieve my loss,
and like the fiery prophets of old,
I have a vision for you:
May someone drive bamboo splinters
under your fingernails,
so that when you strum the stolen strings
you cry out in agony.
May you live in constant fear,
hearing voices gibbering in the night.
May scenes of hell disturb your sleep.
May peace flee from you like dust before the wind.
May regret pierce your soul
like ten thousand rusty knives,
and may the bleeding never stop.
If ever you are caught,
may you be locked up so long
that you never walk out alive.
May the jangle of the jailer’s keys
be the first music you hear each morning
and the last sound you hear at night.
And may I be privileged to hear your death rattles
just before the jailers carry you out feet first
to dump you in an unmarked grave.
So be it.
Amen.

 

Poem © 2011 and revised 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
     
More Poetry Pantry #378 at Poets United

Tell everyone


Tell everyone
how the whole
works better
than a part.
 
Concentrate
on the right hook
for your story
(keep it short,
keep it sharp)
and you’ll catch
what you wish,
 
not fish
but people
with an appetite
for truth—
they’ll spot it
on your hook
and take the bait.

 

Poem © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #135
   
More Poetry Pantry #377 at Poets United

I almost made it to the park


I almost made it to the park,
the one smelling like an
untamed jungle,
where wild things rub
against rough trees,
leaving little tufts of fur
clinging to the bark.
I almost made it to the park,
but the spirit of the night
nudged me toward ten
thousand constellations
rumbling through the sky,
and I could not help
but take two others with me,
strangers in the flesh,
but kindred spirits,
and we watched
Cassiopeia’s Crown
crumble into dust.

 

Poem © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #134
   
More Poetry Pantry #376 at Poets United