Blog Archives

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”

Advertisements

Playing

 photo DSC_0245_zpsxqgmzzgj.jpg
An artist’s rendering of a street scene after the catastrophic 2010 earthquake in Haiti. The painting hangs in a church in Southern Arizona.
 


playing in the street
even after the earth shifts—
a boy in blue shoes

 

Haiku and photo © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Blue Monday
 
More Haiku Horizons: “Shift”

Puzzle

 photo YumaWetreflection_zpsf29b9f71.jpg
Yuma East Wetlands, Yuma, Arizona
 


near the blue lagoon
a puzzle in the grasses—
receding footprints

 
Haiku © 2016 and photo © 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Blue Monday
 
More Haiku Horizons: “Puzzle”

Teatime

Blue door
San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, México
 


Behind the blue door
two friends sip tea together—
the tinkling of spoons.

 
Haiku © 2016 and photo © 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Blue Monday
 
More Haiku Horizons: “Friend”

Stone

 photo DSC_0002205_zpsudrxjknd.jpg
Someone left a stone at Roxaboxen Park, Yuma, Arizona. (Read why people leave stones at Roxaboxen.)
 


Left for passersby to see,
This wee stone delighted me.
When I saw its shade of blue,
I thought right away of you
And the way the summer skies
Show themselves in your bright eyes.

 
Poem and photo © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Blue Monday
 
More Macro Monday 2

Pallet

 photo DSC_0130201_zpsvicotwe4.jpg
Blue-painted edge of a pallet at a construction site, Southern Arizona
 


An old wooden pallet
With peeling blue paint—
A quirky attraction
For sinner and saint.

 
 
Poem and photo © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Blue Monday

Organic Riffs

 photo f0e0ed7a-f2aa-439d-8b18-d2aabda429f1_zpsaji0iqni.jpg
 
 


~~ 1 ~~
 
organic cherries—
red and ripe and luscious
in a blue-green bowl
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
our midsummer’s feast—
dining on organic figs
and wedges of cheese
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
organic apples—
whining about the bruises
that soften their flesh
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
organic silence—
good news for the old poet
scribbling at midnight
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
ripe organic plums—
ants come from three miles away
for the summer feast
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
my shoes coming loose—
organic cotton laces
crumbling into dust
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
for ripe fruit she pants—
bunches of fat purple grapes
organic, luscious

 
© 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #55
 
More Midweek Motif at Poet’s United: “Organic”

Stone

 photo DSC_0147_zpssyijkf4l.jpg
Stone of remembrance, Yuma Pioneer Cemetery, Yuma, Arizona
 


Stone of remembrance
Painted in blue,
Placed near a tombstone:
“We still love you.”

 
Poem and photo © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Blue Monday

Roses

 photo DSC_0153201_zpszw6ylnyi.jpg
Yuma Pioneer Cemetery, Yuma, Arizona
 


Their children left blue roses
On their dusty grave
As a sign of gratitude
For the love they gave.

 
Poem and photo © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Blue Monday
 
More Macro Monday 2

Broken

 photo DSC_0046_zpssocsxpdo.jpg
Ceramic decoration left by a young visitor, reduced to potsherds, Roxaboxen Park, Yuma, Arizona
 


I thought a little paste would work,
I even tried some glue,
Hoping that my handiwork
Would hold the shards of blue.
 
But glue and paste do nothing,
As far as I can see,
To piece together something
That’s broken as can be.

 
More Poetry Pantry #294
 
More Shadow Shot Sunday 2
 
More Sunday Scribblings 2: “Paste”