Blog Archives

If You Dance


If you dance, you’ll need some salt.
Tumble down into the vault,
Where the salt is mixed with wind—
No, my dear, it’s not been tinned!
 
Best to take the salt at once,
Lest you turn into a dunce,
Crying with the living dead,
Who do not care what you’re fed.
 
Still, the best is yet to come:
See the dead man bind the drum
To his forehead with a string?
And you thought it was just bling!
 
Do not dread what is to come;
Though the dead man beats his drum
At least he’s not beating you!
All is well, and this is true.

 
  
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #216

There’s Wisdom


 
There’s wisdom in what’s dulcet,
And wisdom in what’s tart.
The old grow ripe with longing
For youth’s resilient heart.
 
Time proves our ground of being
To be both false and stale.
Come, my friend, let’s toast the dead
With green and bitter ale.

 
Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #184
 
More Poetry Pantry #425 at Poets United

Desert

Desert landscape photo AnzaBolandscape_zpscb996581.jpg
Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, Southern California
 


A desert wasteland—
who can number the dead things
littering the soil?
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
In the barren lands
hungry and thirsty creatures
vie for sustenance.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
In the wilderness
some things rattle and threaten,
others pierce and tear.

 
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Carpe Diem: “Desert”
 
More Three Word Wednesday: “Dead, Hungry, Threaten”

Cryptic

 photo OrganPipeAug2013092_zps8cf71352.jpg
Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
 


dead trees and no moon—
the cryptic constellations
of the shifting sands

 
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Carpe Diem Special #116

Tiny Tales

 photo 159_zps08036c16.jpg
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
twenty months of drought
the fortitude of pine trees
blackbird’s plaintive song
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
At the nursing home
the moody night shift nurses
wait for the next death.
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
a broken platter—
crickets jumping at the chance
for dabs of jelly
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
on gossamer wings
mist stealing through the forest—
fragile little bird
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
Though your life is brief,
you may take a stone in hand
while you are weeping.
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
the simple brilliance
of this singular moment—
blue iris blooming
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
Spontaneity—
from the dust of wilderness
healing pools arise.
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
inevitable—
the birds that followed Jesus
pecking at my eyes
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
birth pangs at midnight
the poem in my belly
kicking to be free
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
in a barren land
no pattering of raindrops—
plethora of light
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
difficult to see
on the dark and stormy way—
stories no one tells
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
first evening shadows
creeping into dead men’s shoes—
blackbird turns to ash
 

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #200
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 159

Creeping