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You Were Meant to Fly


You open the kitchen door, Mother,
and slip into the woods
after supper.
There is no trail to follow,
but you do not worry;
swarms of stars
wait to greet you
and show you the way.
 
You leave your valuables behind;
masked strangers can have them,
and you will not moan over your losses.
You know you’ll get what you need for
your journey at just the right time.
 
You were meant to fly—
the stars will deal gently with you.

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
  
More Sunday’s Whirligig #161
   
More Poetry Pantry #403 at Poets United

Stripping Flesh from Bones

204 photo 203_zps9touummb.jpg
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
What am I to do
with this blank sheet of paper
and an empty pen?
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
A dream at midnight—
someone mumbling Basho’s name
imitates a frog.
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
three clay pots—
white chrysanthemums
in full bloom
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
three stolen plums
stuffed in his left pocket
to eat later
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
wild roses
blooming on roadsides
in Georgia
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
She speaks in tongues
that no one understands
except her god.
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
lying down to sleep
in different beds each night—
her long loneliness
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
powers of darkness
gathering near the hedgerow
disguised as egrets
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
As the signpost burns,
I take off my tattered shoes
to walk barefoot home.
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
at my journey’s end
laying down my faithful staff
to take up a cross
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
stripping flesh from bones
through every kind of weather—
Dr. Death at work
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
Beginnings are hard—
ask the chick trapped in the shell
or the child in school.

 
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Poetry Pantry #244
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 204

Fishing Tales

 photo 157_zps56d52a1a.jpg
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
seven fishing boats
rocking imperceptibly
in a gentle swell
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
fishing line tangles
twice around the willow limb—
Elijah returns
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
fishing through the mess
in the middle desk drawer—
pages torn from Psalms
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
fishing from the bridge
with a stolen rod and reel—
Egypt lies downstream
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
how her heart aches
fishing for compliments
that never come
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
deep-water fishing—
nothing God says in mercy
keeps Jonah on land
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
sharp prongs of lightning—
a fleet of fishing trawlers
limping back to shore
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
fishing boots with holes—
watching prophets weave and sway
limping round puddles
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
guts bloody the sink
from this morning’s fishing trip
to Lake Galilee
 

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #198
 
More Carpe Diem: “Fishing”
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 157