Blog Archives

Twice I Thought I Saw a Flame


Twice I thought I saw a flame
When the shapeless angel came.
Pure and bright she blazed near me;
In her hand she held a key.
 
“This unlocks your heart’s desire,
Be it water, earth, or fire.
You must choose what works for you,
Then will I your bidding do.”
 
Long I stood in awe and stared,
While her visage blazed and flared.
How I trembled, how I ached!
My flesh quivered and I quaked!
 
Then I spoke with fearful voice:
“This I ask, this is my choice:
Like you let me be a flame
Ever wilding, never tame.”
 
“Done!” she cried. “That I’ll allow!
I’ll set you ablaze right now!
Wear this holy fire in grace!
Every mortal, hide your face!”
 
Many years have passed since then,
Years beyond all mortal ken;
Still I flare and still I blaze,
And I will for endless days.

 
  
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher

Five Little Sillies


Can you be happy in your distress
Or will you just suffer and be a mess?
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Bitterness! Now, there’s a thought,
Something that I think I ought
Never, ever to embrace—
Let me look into your face.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
It’s better, I think, to shift your eyes
Away from the things that spell your demise
And focus instead on the good and true.
Well, that’s what I think. Now, how about you?
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Walking through the fog alone,
Gnawing on a raven’s bone
Makes me want to shout, not sing:
Wish I had the raven’s wing!
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
I’m emboldened to do deeds
That will take me far from Leeds;
Never mind my indigence,
I will make my way to France.

 
Poems © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #171
 
More Poetry Pantry #412 at Poets United
 

Writing letters

IMG_5399 (1)
Detail from a mural in Artists Alley, Ajo, Arizona
 
 

I would work harder
at writing letters
if I thought someone
would open the envelope.
There’s something satisfying
about going to my desk,
sweeping aside the rejection slips
from my latest failed poem,
and writing to friends,
a different one each day.
Despite my devotion
to penning words on paper,
few friends reply,
and I have to remind myself
that letter writing
is about to pass away
into that realm where
rotary dial telephones,
carbon paper, and chalkboards
are of blessed memory.

 

Poem and photo © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #123
   
More Poetry Pantry #365 at Poets United

Little Ditties

 photo e368c4d8-a7c4-430b-aef4-290c1402e50e_zpskx0gqj5w.jpg
 
 


~~ 1 ~~
 
leaning on a stone
late into the afternoon—
Thoreau at Walden
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
even in the heat
setting a kettle to boil—
daily ritual
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
Startled by the cry
of a ripening cherry,
the old man stumbles.
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
a place of refuge
where only those dressed in white
find a welcome mat
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
everyone singing
a sequence of off-key notes—
the cacophony
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
murmuring a prayer
taken from an old straw hat
found in the gutter
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
hidden in darkness
a 14-carat gold ring
duller than a stone
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
outside the bedroom
something indiscernible
lurking in the dark
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
the can full of nails
wrapped round and round with a chain
everything rusting
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
after fire and flood
not even a single thought
of starting over
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
into the bookshop
one shoe off and one shoe on
for a reading fix
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
the other story
about the nifty gadget
no one can invent

 
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #254
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #9