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Prayer in Time of Drought

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Lord, the little plants need water.
 
Send Your healing rain.
 
Let the sound of its falling
 
refresh my weary soul
 
as I walk barefoot through the garden,
 
damp earth beneath my feet,
 
thinking of all Your marvelous ways—
 
how You never force Yourself upon me,
 
but like light that warms or blinds,
 
You come to me each day,
 
inviting me to choose,
 
and in this time of drought
 
I choose blindness.
 
Dazzle me with Your presence
 
in each drop of rain.

 

Poem © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #301
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #58

Grotesqueries: Take Two

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Each grotesquerie begins with a phrase purloined from One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez, the Colombian novelist who died 17 April 2014.
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
Bottom of the pot—
why are the lobsters keening
about their karma?
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
Nights in the courtyard—
seven tattered people snore
underneath the limes.
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
The rear of the house—
are there any hollyhocks
wedded to the yard?
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
secrets of the moth
revealed in graphic detail—
the old druid sings
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
adobe houses
at the altitude of geese
Marc Chagall at work
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
faded velvet vest
not mine but the general’s
stained with soup and wine
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
tree in the courtyard
becoming alabaster
at the prophet’s word
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
where the gypsy girl
sews chaos to confusion
with a fraying thread
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
looking for the bag
to carry home a loaf of bread
and a pound of bones
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
fermented cane juice
served in blue plastic bottles—
champagne for the poor
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
Upset by the news
of the latest disaster,
she made friends of gnats.
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
When she could not sleep,
she would force herself to read
from Leviticus.
 

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #202
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 161