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My friends leave the room


My friends leave the room,
taking daylight with them,
along with the moon and stars.
The onset of an illness makes me
morbid, not dangerous.
In my trance-like state,
I care for nothing.
What led me away from
wisdom’s eight strong pillars?
Will giving you the symptoms
of my illness point me to a cure?

 

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 #154
   
More Poetry Pantry #396 at Poets United

Abandoned

Photobucket
An abandoned house, Zacatecas, México
 

empty room
shadows in mourning
no one’s home

 
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Blue Monday
 
More Shadow Shot Sunday 2
 
More Carpe Diem: “Abandoned”

Whirling All Over

 photo 169_zps7534656a.jpg
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
over the yogurt
she lays a piece of muslin
to keep flies at bay
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
seven flavors of
manufactured excuses
dripping from her tongue
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
tonight’s harvest moon
on this side of the river—
such a tiny coin
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
geese in the millions
drowning the eastern flyway
with their plaintive honks
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
an ancient pilgrim
forgetting her arthritis
on the sacred hike
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
feathers of brown birds
shot from black cannons at dawn—
how the West was won
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
perhaps the turtle
making low sounds in its throat
thinks dogs will cower
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
The storytellers
make room for one another,
using fragrant words.
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
writing a letter
with lackluster paragraphs—
the same dusty words
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
In his own country
no one honors the prophet—
even ravens mock.
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
One cry from the crow
beguiles the lunar eclipse
into shrinking back.
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
Cheeky ones go pale
whenever Jesus appears,
circumcising hearts.

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #209
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 169