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Strident Voices


Strident voices fill the room,
Stripped of reason, dripping gloom;
In the yard among the ashes
Lie three shattered window sashes.
Mention them enough, they say,
And you’ll turn the night to day.
Later on when winter’s over
And the fields are white with clover,
And our conversations rust
(As we knew they surely must),
Maybe then the world will see
Everyone in chains set free.

 
 

Poem © 2021 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #302
 
More Writers’ Pantry #54 at Poets and Storytellers United

One thing I ask


One thing I ask:
that I might know true love
before I have no strength,
and the undertaker measures
how long I am, my length,
for the coffin he’s prepared,
from which my waxen face
will stare at those who pass.
Is this desire wrong?
Am I a fool to ask?
It makes me rich to think of love—
thus, I write my song.

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #149
   
More Poetry Pantry #391 at Poets United