Blog Archives

Who Do You Think You Are: A Haibun


If you were to ask me, “Who do you think you are?” this is what I’d say: I started dancing when God said, “Turn on the lights!” I made music when the first corn grew in dusty places, and the weight of a single kernel was heavier than all of Moctezuma’s gold. I attended the wedding at Cana of Galilee where Jesus said, “Forget the cash bar. I’m turning this water into wine, and it’s free for everyone. Come and get it!” I fiddled all night for the guests as they drank wine, rolled joints, and danced. And in the early hours of the morning I saw how Jesus took that poor, bruised woman with the split lip, laid his hands on her head, and said, “Daughter, be healed.” And she was! So who do I think I am? Why do you even ask? I think you know.


I can’t remember
the last time I quenched my thirst
from a mountain stream.

 

Haibun © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #271
 
More Writers’ Pantry #25 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Women in the Photograph


I.
Women in the photograph
Do not smile and do not laugh.
“Bones,” they croak, “are fine when brown.
Can we buy some in your town?”
 
II.
Skin of language, weight of air,
Ravens weaving patterns there
In the presence of your friends—
See the way the sunlight bends?

 
  
Poem © by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #207
 
More Poetry Pantry #445 at Poets United

Little Things

 photo 8e2aec42-c20f-47e1-aa74-0e200988c1f8_zpspfxveprd.jpg
 
 


~~ 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

Whirling for Good or Ill

201 photo 201_zpsicgp6ah1.jpg
 
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
her passport photo
veins bulging in her forehead
from the night before
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
ocean on the floor
the toddler’s howl of dismay
as she spills her milk
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
tangled old orchard
filling her with fear and dread—
the fruitless plum trees
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
a secret language
spoken only by bruised flesh
women understand
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
a silver whistle—
the weight of it in my hand
greater than my life
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
in the stone circle
waiting to welcome the moon—
the owl calls my name
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
empty begging bowl
not a single grain of rice
gracing the bottom
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
on a blue table
bouquet of yellow roses
dropping their petals
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
ghost of a corn stalk
blasted by hot winds and drought—
this crop of ruin
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
smashing a spider
with a granite paperweight—
the terrified child
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
names of the war dead
chiseled in a granite wall
stray dog lifts his leg
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
old haiku poet
sadness drifting through her words
still she dips her pen

 
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #241
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 201