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Beyond

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Indigo bush at sunrise, Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
 


What the trees whisper
in a language beyond words
no mere tongue can tell.

 
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
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An Ernest Whirl

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Each little breath-of-a-poem begins with a phrase purloined from A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway.
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
stretch of river bank
near the precipitous cliff—
her quavering heart
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
a bleak, windy stretch
with nothing to sustain her
but some cheap red wine
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
this cold afternoon
even the pigeons stutter
as they try to coo
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
Even the false spring
baffles the chestnut seller
on the rue Ampère.
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
pitiful old man
pushing a rickety cart
filled with rotting grapes
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
crowded market street—
her longing for fresh scallions
draws her to one stall
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
all of the sadness
leaking into her old bones
with the autumn rain
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
in the clear sharp wind
crows practising a language
to mock passersby
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
a cold windswept street—
running down a flight of stairs
to meet her lover
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
saddest part of town—
the absence of a taxi
to whisk her away
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
the public bathhouse—
through a rift in the west wall
old men ogling her

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #215
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 175

Quick Takes

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Each little poem-breath begins with a phrase purloined from Paul Theroux’s Ghost Train to the Eastern Star.
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
In a stack of books
she finds a list of numbers—
pi comes at the end.
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
plump picture album—
placing it back on the shelf
to gorge on more dust
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
the little notebook—
holding it in her right hand
while the words quiver
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
shivering sparrows—
children say hello to them
but offer no cloaks
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
on a rusty bridge
she contemplates existence—
freight train bearing down
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
rain pelting sideways—
the monsoon’s monstrous power
lashing passersby
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
streets thick with traffic
not a single horn muffled—
such cacophony
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
an unlikely place
for a band of stomping monks—
the Doge’s palace
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
in a sacred place
the clamoring of pilgrims
not a whiff of prayer
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
praising the fish soup
in some strange piscine language—
old man of the sea
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
Amid the squalor
she hears the sizzle of fish
on an open fire.
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
in a yellow dish
a single shriveled lemon—
Van Gogh dips his brush

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #205
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 164