Category Archives: Sunday’s Whirligig

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

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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

Blue Shirt


Every Sunday for forty years, my father
would choose the same blue shirt
to wear to church.
The cloth faded and grew thin
and some of the buttons
went missing.
(You’d think he had no money.)
Almost as an afterthought
he’d put on a tattered tie, then walk
two blocks to the Methodist Church.
Easing his bony frame down
onto the unpadded wood pew,
he’d wink and say, “I’m sure the Lord doesn’t care
what I look like, but only that I’ve come—
and here I am.”
Now, six weeks after his funeral,
I hug his empty blue shirt
and long to hear him say once more,
“Here I am.”

 

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 #151
   
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Money”

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

Dark Sayings


Pour out libations of coffee
on the mountain.
Hand the longer straw
to the loser.
Soften tall buildings
with mystical solvent
until they topple.
Put a painting in each hand,
then toss them into the dumpster.
Do you still believe in miracles
after hearing these dark sayings?
How can your heart not be sad?
Even the blackbird is numb.

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #148
   
More Poetry Pantry #390 at Poets United

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

Weird Little Tales


winter afternoon—
a rich layer of new snow
blanketing the earth
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
In weary silence
she gazes into the flames,
seeking an omen.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
nothing fancier
than her cream-colored straw hat
with its pink ribbon
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
A wooden clothespin—
she touches it to her tongue
and then to her palms.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Over her shoulder
she tosses a tangerine,
hoping for good luck.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Spiteful old women
hurl curses at their husbands
for small transgressions.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Through a small window
she sees the plural of goose
landing on the pond.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
A life for herself—
no more peeling potatoes,
she thinks with a sigh.

 
Haiku © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #146
   
More Poetry Pantry #388 at Poets United