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Write your name outside the box;
Help your neighbor mend her socks.
If you use your white paint first,
Things will go from worse to worst.
Anything on page sixteen
Will remain, by Jove, unseen.
Sentences are like a thread
Leading to the living dead.
Letters written by one’s hand
Are most certain to withstand
All the ravages of time,
Quite unlike this awful rhyme.

Poems © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #187
More Poetry Pantry #428 at Poets United


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Red walls, San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, México


So many walls in San Miguel!
There is the wall painted the color of sunrise just down the street from the casita where I am staying. Even on overcast days its brightness lifts my spirits.
There are the walls of stone surrounding the little plaza where lovers hold hands, old people rest their weary bones, and pigeons boldly draw near, demanding a treat.
And there are the towering walls outside the homes of the rich near Parque Juarez. No one can see over them, but behind those walls I imagine feasts for Dia de los Muertos, cooks toiling in kitchens, and servants ushering guests to their places at the table.
“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,” Robert Frost mused in one of his poems. But when it comes to the walls of San Miguel, I love them all.


Sunday afternoon
another page of Kafka
served up with dessert

Text and photo © 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Ruby Tuesday Too
More Our World Tuesday
More Carpe Diem: “Synesthesia”

Little Things

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~~ 1 ~~
cracking one more tooth
on a piece of hard candy—
her bittersweet tale
~~ 2 ~~
breaking the last plate
in her mother’s collection
to vent her anger
~~ 3 ~~
selecting a brush
one with a broken handle
for her self-portrait
~~ 4 ~~
weight of her secret
driving her down to her knees
in utter despair
~~ 5 ~~
elegant mirror
studded with pearls and rubies—
spider web of cracks
~~ 6 ~~
at the kitchen sink
humming little hymns of praise
for each daily chore
~~ 7 ~~
(Still thinking about how to ravish you!)
~~ 8 ~~
orange marmalade—
licking the last sticky bit
from the silver knife
~~ 9 ~~
the sigh of the spoon
stirring the seventeenth batch
of pancake batter
~~ 10 ~~
stop-and-go traffic
wearing out my Chevy’s brakes
one foot at a time
~~ 11 ~~
fresh load of cement
churning on the truck chugging
toward the building site
~~ 12 ~~
after the frog jumps
another page of haiku
in Basho’s manner

© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Poetry Pantry #247
More Sunday’s Whirligig #2