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My Hopes Are Dashed and Scattered


My hopes are dashed and scattered,
There’s no more grace to spare,
For flyaway potatoes
Have landed everywhere!
They’ve landed on my shoulders,
They’ve landed on my knee,
They’ve landed in the ocean,
They’ve landed in the sea.
Some folks would call it bounty,
But I call it bad luck
To live in Tater County
And drive a tater truck.
Perhaps I should be grateful
For taters, lanes, and such,
But after three bad crashes,
I am not grateful much.


 

Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #266
 
More Writers’ Pantry #20 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

Without

Billowy clouds photo Sonoranclouds_zps32060464.jpg
Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
 


without potatoes
a great hunger in the land—
these dusty acres

 
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
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