An Overflowing Cup of Couplets

1.
Choice is good, and so is bliss.
(Someone wiser told me this.)
 
2.
In the margin of a book
Someone counted commas—look!
 
3.
If the final stretch is wide,
You might weave from side to side.
 
4.
Does your chest hurt? Doesn’t matter.
What’s that on your hand—blood spatter?
 
5.
Pull the lever, pull it hard,
And then play your wildest card.
 
6.
Lone, not lonely, is the house
Without cricket, fly, or mouse.

© 2021 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #334
 
More Writers’ Pantry #86 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

To Flatten the Curve

To flatten the curve, don’t go anywhere—
Not the hills or the plains; get used to long hair.
Maybe you’ll tango, and maybe you won’t,
But when nighttime comes, don’t go out, just don’t.
Tell your young nephew: “I want to stay here;
It’s safer that way, you know it is, dear.
This won’t last forever, though now it seems black;
But here’s where we are, dear, there’s no turning back.
Let’s brush off our tears, child; now give me your hand—
We’ll pray that this Covid will flee from our land.”

 
 
Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #278
 
More Writers’ Pantry #32 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

The Art of Dying: A Haibun

One day I will practice the art of dying. Darkness will gain the upper hand. No one will ring mournful bells from the church spire to announce my passing. While feuds and wars continue on Earth, I will be at peace, having slipped away into a wild and wonderful place. No more false living for me!

Tattered butterfly,
tell me again the reason
nothing stays the same.

Sunlight

The sunlight
now flooding the valley
after three weeks
of steady rain with no slits in the
clouds, no patches of light,
must be a sign.
 
With one hand
I grab my guitar,
with the other
I begin scribbling a tale
about the distant waterfall.
fed by the recent rains,
that keeps thundering into an abyss.
 
I could have drifted
into darkness,
been swallowed by deep waters,
if sunlight had not
come to the valley again.
 
This is my tale,
this is my song.
Sing with me.

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
  
More Sunday’s Whirligig #162
   
More Poetry Pantry #404 at Poets United