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Three Couplets

Daylight, and the drunk man falls forward on his face;
He lacks a map to guide him to a better place.
Sometimes a hearth that’s spacious holds only hints of fire—
Little coals that soon grow cold like everyone’s desire.
Anywhere is nowhere when money creeps inside;
Beware when words become a place for your lies to hide.

Poems © by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #210
More Poetry Pantry #448 at Poets United


 photo NMAtochaSacredHeart_zpsb5af60f5.jpg
Chapel of Santo Niño de Atocha, Chimayo, New Mexico

sorrowing mother—
a bright aurora of grief
stains the northern sky
~~ ~~ ~~
What can blunt the grief
of mothers losing their sons
to ravenous graves?
~~ ~~ ~~
Grappling with her grief,
her world spins out of control—
perhaps she is drunk.
~~ ~~ ~~
mother of the dead
lethargic in her sorrow
morning bread unbaked

Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Carpe Diem: “Northern Lights”
More Three Word Wednesday: “Blunt, Drunk, Lethargic”

More Twelve Days of Mary at Recuerda Mi Corazon: Day 10