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Three Couplets

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

Not Enough Money

Not enough money, yes, this is the song
I sing at daybreak and sing all day long.
Not enough money to travel to France,
Not enough money for sweaters or pants;
Not enough money for coffee or tea,
Not enough money for sailing the sea.
But laughter is free, so I laugh a lot.
As for more money, I don’t give a jot!

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher

Long Moons Ago

DSC_0131 (1)
Winter full moon setting over Wellton, Arizona just before daybreak

Long moons ago I had a penny;
I thought it was a lot of money.
I clutched it, saying, “I’m so rich now!”
My father thought that I was funny.
The years have passed, I still count pennies,
But this I count a much greater boon:
To linger near the palms at midnight,
Admiring the fullness of the moon.

Poem © 2018 and photo © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Money”

Blue Shirt

Every Sunday for forty years, my father
would choose the same blue shirt
to wear to church.
The cloth faded and grew thin
and some of the buttons
went missing.
(You’d think he had no money.)
Almost as an afterthought
he’d put on a tattered tie, then walk
two blocks to the Methodist Church.
Easing his bony frame down
onto the unpadded wood pew,
he’d wink and say, “I’m sure the Lord doesn’t care
what I look like, but only that I’ve come—
and here I am.”
Now, six weeks after his funeral,
I hug his empty blue shirt
and long to hear him say once more,
“Here I am.”


Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
NOTE: This poem is almost entirely the product of my imagination. Any resemblances to my own life are purely coincidental.
More Sunday’s Whirligig #151
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Money”