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The coast is clear

The coast is clear,
but the simple man knows
that the earth is about to ripple
from the inside out
and become a gigantic heap
of rubble.
Might as well bask in the sun
warming his bones
while he can.
Nothing to gain by putting it off.
In the throes of ecstasy
he peels off his clothes,
gets down on his knees,
and gives thanks,
despite the tumult to come.


Poem © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #142
More Poetry Pantry #383 at Poets United

More Small Wonders

Monday 47 photo wordle-47-feb-9_zps2d4890d9.png

~~ 1 ~~
banks of the canal
littered with Styrofoam cups—
last night’s wild party
~~ 2 ~~
a broken paddle—
her only means for forcing
the canoe upstream
~~ 3 ~~
A dent in the door—
the madman throws his hammer
at his hapless wife.
~~ 4 ~~
Even the maple syrup
drenching my morning pancakes
cannot still the storm.
~~ 5 ~~
improvised scripture
scribbled beneath a picture
in a children’s book
~~ 6 ~~
the old woman’s shawl
unraveling thread by thread
along with her dreams
~~ 7 ~~
ripples on the pond
where old Basho’s frog jumped in
following the crowd
~~ 8 ~~
of deserts waiting
for spring rain
~~ 9 ~~
in the oubliette
a traitor
~~ 10 ~~
her excess baggage—
hoping no one will notice
the overhead bin
~~ 11 ~~
the redwing blackbirds
petitioning the frog pond
for a midday snack

© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Monday Wordle #47