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Rhyme for a Time of Plague


Fill the tooth, fear the faces
Peering in the empty spaces.
Mix the needlepoint with mittens;
Leave unharmed the cats and kittens.
Do not be afraid of arms;
Help the farmers on their farms.
When the hay has all been stacked
And the plums in jars are packed,
Smiles will go a long, long way
Toward allaying fears, I say.

 

Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #265
 
More Writers’ Pantry #19 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Bits

198 photo 198_zps5af75095.jpg
 
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
another country
without a single border
touching the Black Sea
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
fleece of the black sheep
tossed on the shearing room floor
among the white ones
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
Fill the empty cup
with your broken promises
and your hollow words.
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
seal beneath the pier
keeping out of the limelight
till the tourists leave
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
glass jar of pickles—
summer captured in a quart
for the winter feast
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
clown on the corner—
no one pays him any mind
except on Sundays
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
wound round her forehead
a crimson strip of muslin
stained with her own blood
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
sound of glass breaking
in ten thousand Jewish shops—
Hitler’s thugs at work
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
burst of energy
just before the finish line
claiming victory
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
tumbleweeds rolling
down deserted avenues
heralds of despair
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
(instill)
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
(emit)

 
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Poetry Pantry #238
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 198