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In the Riverbed


In the riverbed I listened while the fishes swam and spoke;
The tales that they were weaving made me want to have a smoke
Of something much more potent than a Winston or Pall Mall,
But the room beneath the water had no butler and no bell.
Thus I could not call for hashish, so I tried to calm myself
By burning fragrant incense that I found upon a shelf.
The smoke set me to dreaming, and my arms fell limp at last,
I felt empty as a daydream from my mother’s distant past.
I fear you won’t believe me, nor the story that I tell,
So here’s the final word, my friends: I bid you all farewell.

 
  
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #230
 
More Poetry Pantry #492 at Poets United

Welcoming

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Puerto Nuevo, Baja California Norte, México
 


with arms open wide
she welcomes the evening waves
as they roll to shore

 
Haiku © 2016 and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #310
 
More Haiku Horizons: “Wave”

Quiddities

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Each breath-of-a-poem begins with a phrase purloined from A Year in the World: Journeys of a Passionate Traveller by Frances Mayes.
 


~~ 1 ~~
 
carry-on luggage
one bag black, the other beige
bulging with tchotchkes
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
Without a ticket,
she will not fly this evening—
travel drought begins.
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
going the wrong way—
imagine her great surprise
slamming into oaks
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
leper colony—
warblers among the branches
serenade the sick
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
In another room
a woman with open arms
welcomes motes of dust.
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
between the pages
aiming to find the answers
to unasked questions
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
lighting thin candles
in honor of the feeders
that snatch up small seeds

 
© 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #51

Whirling with Walt

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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

Open Arms

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Juan Diego Chapel, Mission San Xavier del Bac, Tucson, Arizona
 
“That is a beautiful shrine. I must get to this church next time in Tucson. I’m sad that I’ve missed it in the past with as often as I go there or pass through. Maybe in late March or April this year if all goes well. Thanks for posting this photo. I like it a lot. Peace.”
 
(Comment left by Joe Spado aka Spadoman, blogger at Round Circle, when this post was published originally on 7 December 2011. Joe died suddenly and unexpectedly yesterday as he was traveling in South Dakota with his beloved wife Barbara. We miss you, Joe. There’s much less kindness and gentleness on Earth now that you are gone.)

 

With malice toward none,
she opens her arms with joy
to embrace the world.

 
Text and photo © 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More A Virgin a Day at Recuerda Mi Corazon