Category Archives: Sunday’s Whirligig

A Lantern Made of Whiskey


A lantern made of whiskey,
A subway made of glass,
A sari made of tea leaves,
A toothbrush made of brass—
 
I found them in the bakery
On Smashing Dingo Street;
From chains they were a-dangling,
And tempting me to eat.
 
But I took out my compass—
See! Dandelions bloom!—
And sought the nearest exit
From that enchanted room.
 
I found it in a heartbeat,
I took it mighty fast,
I slammed the door behind me,
And then felt safe at last.

 
Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #179
 
More Poetry Pantry #420 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

Ponder This


 
~~ ~~ 1 ~~ ~~
 
Why pretend that parents are wise beyond all telling?
I say this for the record: Something rotten I am smelling!
 
~~ ~~ 2 ~~ ~~
 
If police come knock, knock, knocking, and the census taker notes
That you are a foreign person, board your boat while it still floats!
 
~~ ~~ 3 ~~ ~~
 
In the poor, white cardboard shanties gold and silver may be found,
But take care, O treasure seeker, that the gold does not confound.
 
~~ ~~ 4 ~~ ~~
 
Do not ditch the native speaker,
You’ll be glad that she’s around
When the jungle vines come creeping,
And your own tongue can’t be found.
Who can make sense out of nonsense?
Who can make hell holy ground?
Only those who speak the language
Of the things that make no sound.

 
Poems © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #177
 
More Poetry Pantry #418 at Poets 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

The Pimple Ripens Slowly


 
~~ ~~ 1 ~~ ~~
 
The pimple ripens slowly, so everyone can see
That this unsightly blemish is clearly part of me.
 
~~ ~~ 2 ~~ ~~
 
Cancer turns a man to dust.
What is this, if not unjust?
 
~~ ~~ 3 ~~ ~~
 
Empty your closet, toss out your belts—
With global warming everything melts.
 
~~ ~~ 4 ~~ ~~
 
Is anyone clever enough to measure
The actual weight of the thing called Pleasure?
 
~~ ~~ 5 ~~ ~~
 
My horse will wear silver, my horse will wear gold,
He’ll walk where he wants to, and not where he’s told.
 
~~ ~~ 6 ~~ ~~
 
Your spine belongs behind you, not in front, my dear,
For if your spine were frontal, where would be your rear?

 
Poems © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #175
 
More Poetry Pantry #416 at Poets United

The Night Nursing Staff (and Other Delights)


 
~~ ~~ 1 ~~ ~~
 
The night nursing staff—poor, overworked dears—
Are feeling the need to down a few beers.
 
~~ ~~ 2 ~~ ~~
 
Cluck as you gallop away on your horse,
Blast your opponents, and chart a new course.
 
~~ ~~ 3 ~~ ~~
 
Dreaming of bodies that don’t look like mine
Helps me remember that we’re all divine.
 
~~ ~~ 4 ~~ ~~
 
Fathers and sons and ghosts that are holy—
When they play soccer, who serves as goalie?
 
~~ ~~ 5 ~~ ~~
 
The donkey starved at midnight and died against the wall.
For want of hay and water, the donkey gave his all.

 
Poems © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #174
 
More Poetry Pantry #415 at Poets United

Observe the Maggots


 
~~ ~~ 1 ~~ ~~
 
Observe the maggots; climb the stairs;
Smell the coffee; ignore grey hairs;
Your cup is full, you need no more—
Go forth in peace, and close the door.
 
~~ ~~ 2 ~~ ~~
 
Enough is enough, fool on the hill;
Hush all your babbling, and just be still.
 
~~ ~~ 3 ~~ ~~
 
The one who leaves will return,
Having seen the mountain burn,
And the crocus will rejoice
When it hears the master’s voice.
 
~~ ~~ 4 ~~ ~~
 
Neck and neck the horses run,
Uphill, downhill, just for fun.

 
Poems © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #173
 
More Poetry Pantry #414 at Poets United
 

Eat Some Beef, Throw a Stone


 
~~ ~~ 1 ~~ ~~
 
Eat some beef, throw a stone,
Carry hay, gnaw a bone;
Something good will soon appear—
Isn’t everything quite clear?
 
~~ ~~ 2 ~~ ~~
 
Apricots are turning ripe,
Whiskey’s in the water pipe,
Running cold and fast and free—
Will you have a drink with me?
 
~~ ~~ 3 ~~ ~~
 
Pipers piped and dancers danced,
Horses horsed and prancers pranced;
Sensors sensed that all was clear—
It was just that time of year.
 
~~ ~~ 4 ~~ ~~
 
Archaic is the padlock,
Archaic is the key,
Archaic is the gate post,
Archaic just like me!
 
~~ ~~ 5 ~~ ~~
 
Shoulders, fingers, knees and toes—
What’s that tattoo on your nose?
Why’s it there, for pity’s sake?
It looks like a rattlesnake!

 
Poems © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #172
 
More Poetry Pantry #413 at Poets United
 

Five Little Sillies


Can you be happy in your distress
Or will you just suffer and be a mess?
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Bitterness! Now, there’s a thought,
Something that I think I ought
Never, ever to embrace—
Let me look into your face.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
It’s better, I think, to shift your eyes
Away from the things that spell your demise
And focus instead on the good and true.
Well, that’s what I think. Now, how about you?
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Walking through the fog alone,
Gnawing on a raven’s bone
Makes me want to shout, not sing:
Wish I had the raven’s wing!
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
I’m emboldened to do deeds
That will take me far from Leeds;
Never mind my indigence,
I will make my way to France.

 
Poems © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #171
 
More Poetry Pantry #412 at Poets United
 

A Quintet of Silliness


In the tundra you’ll not find
A stand of trees of any kind.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
A hologram is just the thing
To make the holy angels sing.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Anyone who sings at dawn
Should just shut up and be gone!
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
No parking in the garden, no parking close to trees!
But if I cannot park there, then tell me where, O please!
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Touch my lips and touch my crown,
Pick me up and set me down.
Let this be your lifelong task—
Is this much too much to ask?

 
Poems © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #170
 
More Poetry Pantry #411 at Poets United