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Famine or Feast?


In a little storybook that I read both day and night,
A man heaps feast-food on some plates, but keeps them out of sight.
 
His wrinkled visage dares to me reach for juice or wine,
But when I do, he slaps me with twisted fishing line.
 
My luck is next to nothing, I’m down and out, you see;
The table spread before me was never meant for me.
 
If you have hair, it’s easy to charm the serving-man
Who keeps the sideboard groaning with cake and wine and flan.
 
But if your hair is thinning and showing roots of grey,
The keeper of the sideboard will swat your hands away.
 
The moral of my story, if moral there may be:
There’s nothing wrong with hair dye, or using flattery!

 
Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #189
 
More Poetry Pantry #430 at Poets United

One-Eyed Crow

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Caged bird for sale, Mercado San Juan de Dios, Guadalajara, Jalisco, México
 
 

A one-eyed crow
glares at me from atop
the roadside birch.
If it had hands,
it would be waving me on,
disgusted by my clothes and hair,
which are caked with mud.
But crows have no hands,
and they cannot wave,
nor can they carry sabers
to cut down their foes.
If I could capture that crow,
I’d put it in a cage
lined with newspapers
and sell it—cheap—
at Saturday’s flea market.
Instead, I am retreating
from its mocking tongue.

 

Poem and photo © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #126
   
More Poetry Pantry #368 at Poets United

Brown-eyed girl

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Detail from a mural in Artists Alley, Ajo, Arizona
 

A penny for your thoughts,
brown-eyed girl.
Can anyone grow wise
thinking only of the stars?
When shadows nestle in your hair,
becoming bent and crooked—
is that how wisdom begins?
What about the young boy
who loops himself around
the boa constrictor
and survives to tell the tale?
Will you be like him?
Will you have a tale to tell?
How will you begin?
A penny (that’s enough)
for your thoughts,
brown-eyed girl.

 

Poem and photo © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
  
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #124

Laughter

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A mural in Artists Alley, Ajo, Arizona
 
 

Listen to girls laugh—
no two are alike.
One’s laughter is sweet,
the other’s rings of deceit.
The best laughter
(think of someone you know)
surprises you
like hair falling
across your eyes
just as the blackbird
lifts off to fly
and all you can see
is a wingtip
and then it is gone.
Yet of life’s ten thousand joys
this is only one.

 

Poem and photo © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #122
   
More Poetry Pantry #364 at Poets United

Tumultuous

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Indigo Bush (Psorothamnus fremontii) at dawn, Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
 


at the sun’s rising
wild women tossing their hair—
tumultuous joy

 
Text and photo © 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
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