Watch the dog leaping and learn from the monk;
Not all meditation needs to be junk.
Cowardice protects you when the tigers come:
Jump the paddock wall, my friend, and run like hell, just run!
Those who sit together and those who sit apart,
Know that sitting shiva is a quiet art.
Poems © by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #211
More Poetry Pantry #478 at Poets United
A mural on a house in San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, México
When I was a girl
I wanted to be someone’s wife,
washing his dirty clothes,
then hanging them out to dry
on leafless bamboo poles.
But the day I saw a blackbird
in the backyard bath,
its eyes aflame with fire,
I felt within my skin a stirring
to make paintings
envied by both monk and nun.
Now masked, with brush in hand,
I steal out every night
to splash the darkened city walls
with light, and then more light.
Poem and photo © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #120
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Masks”
In the plum orchard
an old monk steps carefully
around fallen fruit.
Under a plum tree,
the old monk, leaning to rest,
murmurs his prayers.
drives the old monk to his feet—
koans fall to earth.
Yard by yard he limps
to the shelter of his cell
through the pelting rain.
© 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 112
Sunrise, Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
Seasonal stream, Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
weary desert monk sipping
from the sacred stream