Category Archives: Sunday’s Whirligig

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
 

Advertisements

Kiss a Rock: Some Sunday Silliness


Kiss a rock, go to sleep
While the candles drip and weep.
 
Eat some bread, flash a smile
At the hungry crocodile.
 
Throw away that plastic wrapper,
Dream of dolphins and red snapper.
 
Promise not to cut my braid;
Ring the doorbell, tell the maid
 
Someone’s on the porch with leaves
Gathered from beneath the eaves.

 
Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #169
 
More Poetry Pantry #410 at Poets United
 

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
 

Not on Any Map


not on any map
the road across the desert
stretches on for years
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
they travel by car
their destination unknown
fleeing disaster
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
a set of footprints
swept away by whipping wind
and the ocean’s surf
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
near a wooden door
stands a wooden rocking horse
and a lonely child
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
morning glory seeds
tucked into an envelope—
their hidden blossoms
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
a tentative smile
after six weeks of sorrow
in the cancer ward
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
hanging new curtains
to defy the brilliant light
of a summer’s day
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
blackbird in the oak—
the greatness of his wingspan
as he starts to fly
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
hapless refugee
her sense of wonder stolen
by a border guard

 
Haiku © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #166
 
More Poetry Pantry #407 at Poets United
 

If You Are Not a Reader


If you wait until the end comes, friend—
the end of the world, I mean—
to pick up a book and read,
you will never find out
how love and lust,
though cousins, differ,
and why one is far superior to the other.
Luck may sometimes nudge you in the right direction,
toward love and not toward lust,
but how lucky can you be if you are not a reader?

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #165
  
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Lust”

Sunlight


The sunlight
now flooding the valley
after three weeks
of steady rain with no slits in the
clouds, no patches of light,
must be a sign.
 
With one hand
I grab my guitar,
with the other
I begin scribbling a tale
about the distant waterfall.
fed by the recent rains,
that keeps thundering into an abyss.
 
I could have drifted
into darkness,
been swallowed by deep waters,
if sunlight had not
come to the valley again.
 
This is my tale,
this is my song.
Sing with me.

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
  
More Sunday’s Whirligig #162
   
More Poetry Pantry #404 at Poets United

You Were Meant to Fly


You open the kitchen door, Mother,
and slip into the woods
after supper.
There is no trail to follow,
but you do not worry;
swarms of stars
wait to greet you
and show you the way.
 
You leave your valuables behind;
masked strangers can have them,
and you will not moan over your losses.
You know you’ll get what you need for
your journey at just the right time.
 
You were meant to fly—
the stars will deal gently with you.

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
  
More Sunday’s Whirligig #161
   
More Poetry Pantry #403 at Poets United

Let Us Praise


Let us praise the raven and the rain.
Let us praise the singer and the song.
Let us praise the Cloud Spirit,
leading us to other roads
when our path is hedged and blocked
by creatures sinister and sleek.
Let us praise the river stones
whose dignity remains intact,
despite the ravages of floods and drought.
Let us praise all things great and small,
for the hundred-thousand ways
our days are measured out.

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
  
More Sunday’s Whirligig #159
   
More Poetry Pantry #401 at Poets United

My friends leave the room


My friends leave the room,
taking daylight with them,
along with the moon and stars.
The onset of an illness makes me
morbid, not dangerous.
In my trance-like state,
I care for nothing.
What led me away from
wisdom’s eight strong pillars?
Will giving you the symptoms
of my illness point me to a cure?

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 

NOTE: This poem is almost entirely the product of my imagination. Any resemblances to my own life are purely coincidental.
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #154
   
More Poetry Pantry #396 at Poets United

Does She Dare to Hope?


Crouching in her cave
she gulps wine mixed
with sugars from the date and fig,
wine that burns like fire.
Bonds of frailty hold her fast.
 
Outside, in the garden of good and evil,
flowers big as moons bloom so bright
they appear to be burning flares,
but she cannot see them.
 
In her cave, all is darkness,
yet she seems to hear a voice read words
older than the prophets:
“Though our outer nature is wasting away,
our inner nature is being renewed every day.”
 
Does she dare to hope?

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 

More Sunday’s Whirligig #153
   
More Poetry Pantry #395 at Poets United