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Three Couplets


I.
Daylight, and the drunk man falls forward on his face;
He lacks a map to guide him to a better place.
 
II.
Sometimes a hearth that’s spacious holds only hints of fire—
Little coals that soon grow cold like everyone’s desire.
 
III.
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

Three Sparks

Sunday2 photo Sunday2_zps83efc41c.jpg
 
 


Dying spark of hope—
melancholy settles in,
nibbling at my soul.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
So many stories
begin with a spark of grief—
Tolstoy understands.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
I dream of the one
whose basket is filled with sparks
gathered from the hearth.

 
© 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Sunday Scribblings: “Spark”