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Hummingbird Country

 photo IMG_3343_zps2yhjb4nn.jpg
Barrel cactus fruit, Yuma Conservation Garden, Yuma, Arizona

 

We live in hummingbird country.
We know how to survive.
Like tiny creatures
flitting here and sipping there,
we scan the sky.
Storm clouds hang heavy in the west,
where thunder is heard.
Can anything good come from thunder
or the burden that both of us bear?
You compare your pain to mine
to see whose is greater.
You say that the doctor’s poking
and prodding was not proper,
because it stirred up something inside you—
a storm that may destroy you.
But aren’t we stronger than storms?
We live in hummingbird country.
We know how to survive.

 

Poem and photo © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Macro Monday 2
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #97
   
More Poetry Pantry #339 at Poets United

Melancholy Whore

original
 
 photo Logo CD March 2015_zpsv0bdcxdw.jpg
 


Melancholy whore,
annoyed with bargain hunters,
shuts down for the night.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Melancholy whore,
hushed after her performance,
smokes a cigarette.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Melancholy whore—
the pain of indiscretion
pressing down on her.

 
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Carpe Diem: “Melancholy”
 
More Three Word Wednesday: “Annoyed, Hushed, Pain”

Whirling with Donald Hall

Banner photo BANNER.jpg
 
This week’s words: race, silky, lanky, whiskey, puddle, pain, mouth, isolate, murky, breath, marsh, razor, befuddled

 
The first line of each haiku or senryu is taken from Donald Hall’s “Stump.”


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
I am used to it—
the hangovers each morning,
whisky on his breath.
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
white blossoms that last
barely a day in this heat
but weeks in a dream
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
where the warm water
gathers into a puddle—
marsh in the making
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
The shade of old summers
is drawn to isolate me
from inner weather.
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
Every afternoon
murky ways lie before me—
befuddled am I.
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
In the gray winter
pain joins my race to the end—
no one wins this one.
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
scraping the stiff snows
with a dull straight-edge razor
unbearding winter
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
The little garden
silky with cobwebs at dusk—
Jesus comes to pray.
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
By night a bare trunk,
gaunt and lanky as Lincoln,
leans against the stars.

 
© 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Poetry Pantry #176
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 135