Blog Archives

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

Weird Tales

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A brittlebush blossom on a winter’s day, Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona

~~ 1 ~~
In a burlap sack
a piece of bread with butter
crumbles into dust.
~~ 2 ~~
For ferocity
she cannot be forgiven,
says the priest in grey.
~~ 3 ~~
Winter afternoon—
why have you gutted my soul
by deceiving me?
~~ 4 ~~
winter afternoon—
going home to feed the dog
from an empty bag
~~ 5 ~~
winter afternoon—
crumbs of holiness hidden
in a paper bag
~~ 6 ~~
Winter afternoon—
having grained the mare,
she lies down to nap.

Haiku © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Macro Monday 2
More Sunday’s Whirligig #98
More Poetry Pantry #340 at Poets United

My Father’s Blessing

When I toddled into the kitchen one Saturday morning,
my father was eating breakfast.
I stared at him, rubbing my eyes in astonishment.
“You comed back!” I exclaimed.
He opened his arms and I ran to him,
not quite believing he was real
until his arms closed around me
and he nuzzled my face with his stubbly cheek,
ten thousand tiny whiskers prickling my skin.
Dad was a student minister then,
and I saw him only on weekends.
He spent the week in Denver, studying theology,
then on Friday night he rode the bus back home
to our lonely outpost somewhere in Kansas.
His absence was like the absence of God:
“He’s there, but you just can’t see him,”
my father explained.
When he was older and wiser,
my father shocked me by saying,
“I don’t need to defend God;
God can take care of himself.”
He put his Bible on the bookshelf
and started preaching from The Denver Post.
One day he raged that another convicted murderer
had been executed in a neighboring state’s electric chair.
He ended his sermon on Sunday with a question:
“Would Jesus Christ pull the switch?”
Of all my father’s sermons,
I remember only this fragment,
and I hold on to it fiercely,
the way I once held the blessed bread
of Holy Communion, so I wouldn’t drop it,
or the way my young father held me
when he came home on weekends,
nuzzling my face with his stubbly cheek,
ten thousand tiny whiskers prickling my skin.

© 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher

Shopping day photo Haiga.SMA.basket_zpsompigkbe.jpg
Shopping in San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, México

From the mercado
she carries in her basket
daily bread and light.

Text and photo © 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Blue Monday
More Ruby Tuesday Too
More Our World Tuesday
More Carpe Diem: “Light”


Zacatecas, México

beggar by the way
angling for a coin or two
or a crust of bread

Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Ruby Tuesday Too
More Our World Tuesday
More Carpe Diem: “Roadside Beggar”

Grotesqueries: Take Two

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Each grotesquerie begins with a phrase purloined from One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez, the Colombian novelist who died 17 April 2014.

~~ 1 ~~
Bottom of the pot—
why are the lobsters keening
about their karma?
~~ 2 ~~
Nights in the courtyard—
seven tattered people snore
underneath the limes.
~~ 3 ~~
The rear of the house—
are there any hollyhocks
wedded to the yard?
~~ 4 ~~
secrets of the moth
revealed in graphic detail—
the old druid sings
~~ 5 ~~
adobe houses
at the altitude of geese
Marc Chagall at work
~~ 6 ~~
faded velvet vest
not mine but the general’s
stained with soup and wine
~~ 7 ~~
tree in the courtyard
becoming alabaster
at the prophet’s word
~~ 8 ~~
where the gypsy girl
sews chaos to confusion
with a fraying thread
~~ 9 ~~
looking for the bag
to carry home a loaf of bread
and a pound of bones
~~ 10 ~~
fermented cane juice
served in blue plastic bottles—
champagne for the poor
~~ 11 ~~
Upset by the news
of the latest disaster,
she made friends of gnats.
~~ 12 ~~
When she could not sleep,
she would force herself to read
from Leviticus.

© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Poetry Pantry #202
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 161


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Yuma Conservation Garden, Yuma, Arizona

in the wilderness
water for the weary one—
would the stones were bread

Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Blue Monday
More SkyWatch Friday
More Carpe Diem: “Pilgrim”

Lady Comfort

Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, Mission San Xavier del Bac, Tucson, Arizona
“That’s cool! I wonder if each tile was made and then matched or painted on the tiles after they were put together. How tall is this? Looks like it is on a wall high above your head. Your words are truly gracious for Our Lady.”
(Comment left by Joe Spado aka Spadoman, blogger at Round Circle, when this post was first published on 6 December 2011. Joe’s sudden and unexpected death two days ago has left many hearts bereft.)


My Lady Comfort,
just to see your gracious face—
fruit and bread and wine!

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