Let’s make a parade, and march through the gate;
These times are trying, but we cannot wait.
Grace has gone swimming, and things are amiss—
Who in her right mind would argue with this?
See how old prejudice rears up its head?
Cut it off quickly! Make sure that it’s dead.
There’s beauty in yellow, red, white, and black;
Joy’s in the middle, the front and the back.
It’s simple, my friend, to bring a new day.
Old braids of hatred? Just snip them away!
More The Whirligig #273
More Writers’ Pantry #27 at Poets and Storytellers United
Bleak is the stable and frosty the hay;
The old shepherd’s moaning, “Please go away!
Give me some quiet, for that would be bliss;
Messes annoy me—just look at all this!
Some other farmhand should milk the brown cow,
While I feed the lambs, the calves, and the sow.
Yes, I know my part, I know it right well:
Work is my worship, despite the rank smell.”
More Sunday’s Whirligig #244
More Pantry of Poetry and Prose #8 at Poets United
A heart drawn in the sand by lovers, Puerto Nuevo, Baja California Norte, México
I hate broccoli—
loathe the stuff.
But it is bliss
to kick off my sandals
and draw on the beach
with my toes.
It is rapture
to wear a different wig each day
and keep people guessing:
“Who is that woman?”
And when I purse my lips
to kiss you? O what delight!
I don’t even worry about the dents
I got in my car last night!
NOTE TO THE READER: Some elements of this poem are autobiographical, but I am NOT a hater of broccoli! The declaration of antipathy toward that particular vegetable just happened to work with this poem.
More Sunday’s Whirligig #121
More Poetry Pantry #363 at Poets United
Wedding at Guadalupe, Zacatecas, Mexico
their marital bliss
painted with commitment’s brush
outlasting the stones
Poem © 2016 and photo © 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Commitment”
~~ 1 ~~
potter’s field at dusk
weed husks rattle in the wind—
sound of passing spring
~~ 2 ~~
Did the Buddha laugh
as he lost himself in bliss
underneath the tree?
~~ 3 ~~
old men aspiring
to make one last pilgrimage—
voice of the donkey
~~ 4 ~~
From beneath a tree
Buddha rises with the sun—
sparrows call his name.
~~ 5 ~~
For personal use
you need one small point of light
to pierce the darkness.
~~ 6 ~~
too many late nights—
for silence and wine
~~ 7 ~~
Why is the prophet
flaunting flamboyant blue robes
this day of mourning?
~~ 8 ~~
in Jethro’s garden
jumbled among the roses
jewelweed in bloom
~~ 9 ~~
The potato fields
never disclose their secrets
to the corn and beans.
~~ 10 ~~
seductive side roads—
a major irritation
on the long journey
~~ 11 ~~
garlands of flowers
to signal weary pilgrims
that they have arrived
~~ 12 ~~
Easily they tire,
those who have no stamina,
on the narrow way.
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Poetry Pantry #212
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 172