Blog Archives

Let the Lint Fall Where It May


Let the lint fall where it may,
In the dirt or in the hay.
The clock is stuck at half-past one,
Desolation has begun;
Now the table won’t be set
For the meal I’d hoped to get.
Things have turned out to be worse
Than this twisted, tortured verse.
All my feelings go awry
When a stick’s poked in my eye,
And the sound of heavy metal
Grinding every flower petal
Seems to last for forty years—
Who will wipe away my tears?

 

Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #253
 
More Writers’ Pantry #7 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Mariachis and More

Old Mariachis
Painting at Fábrica La Aurora San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, México
 
 
THIS WEEK’S WORDS come from “No More Cake Here” by Natalie Diaz: mortuary, motor, many, midnight, mouths, mariachis, mutants, magician, meth, missed, more, maybe


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
old mariachis
their faces creased with music
tumbling through the night
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
A little more time—
the cobblestones will crumble
and fresh woods will sprout.
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
Maybe the ravens
know more about nasturtiums
than ever I will.
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
old poet hobbling
near the pond’s edge at midnight
ripple of water
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
Sing me a riddle:
How many crooked pathways
make a journey whole?

 
~~ 6 ~~
 
It is a sonnet,
and anything can happen—
pour it in their mouths!
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
an old motor home
clunking along the highway
gypsy at the wheel
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
thinking once more of
those missed opportunities—
sixty untold tales
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
the old magician
seeking advice from ravens
on a windy night
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
one breath from heaven
mortuary director
waits for the next call
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
sudden explosion—
a meth lab in his kitchen
blows the guy to hell
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
seventeen mutants
singing alto in the choir—
the strange ways of God

 
Poems © 2015 and photo © 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #265
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #20