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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

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The Corner Thrift Store

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She wears simple clothes
with not a tear in the fabric,
with not a single button missing,
bought from the corner thrift store—
a scarf the color of buckwheat honey;
a skirt as black as a bell at midnight;
a chemise beaded with row upon row
of tiny white shells
gathered just before dawn.

I never tire of watching her
in her element:
the thrift store at the corner,
where the sidewalk is almost level,
and a sign in the window
says they have an opening
for someone who speaks Latin—
perhaps she will apply.

 

© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #250
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #5

Whirling with Walt

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The first line of each three-line snippet comes from “Song of Myself” by Walt Whitman.
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
the eyes of the dead,
blind to beauty and blessing,
staring at nothing
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
knowing the perfect
candle to banish darkness—
only damp matches
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
eddies of the wind
on a mission for the storm
rising in the west
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
The shelves are crowded
with things simple and complex—
have you need of more?
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
choosing a safe spot,
perhaps your arms for the night,
before moving on
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
She owns the fine house
at the tip of the cape, where
no one is welcome.
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
on the granite floor
rivers of fresh blood flowing
from the killing spree
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
In the little wells
where the prairie meets the hill,
blind creatures huddle.
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
with me on the grass
seven ragged musicians
playing haunting tunes
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
Leaving me baskets
filled with ripe apples and rain,
she slips out to sea.
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
The little one sleeps,
caring nothing for the ghosts
that would torment her.
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
Stall in the market—
an image of St. Joseph
stirs among the spoons.

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #208
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 168

A Whiff of Christmas

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This week’s Sunday Whirl words: fix, apart, snatch, cover, pair, angel, waves, simple, box, clay, lies, moon
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
Fix the broken tale,
tinkering with every word
till it sings again.
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
Apart from her dreams
she becomes a flightless wren,
her left wing broken.
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
Snatch five minutes’ rest
and then resume your journey—
night is coming on.
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
Cover your eyes, child,
things too terrible to see
lie in wait for you.
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
Pair the figs and grapes—
ambrosial delectations
for our Christmas feast.
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
angel in the snow—
some child left it there today—
solace for the stars
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
waves of autumn rain
pommelling the pear orchard
the last withered leaf
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
simple the questions
convoluted the answers—
house wren weaves her nest
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
box of stale cookies
dusty on the pantry shelf—
Christmas long ago
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
clay Christmas angel
tumbling to the blue tile floor—
one unbroken wing
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
lies at Christmastide
separating wheat from chaff
Herculean task
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
Moon on Christmas night—
the Magi and the shepherds
look in vain for signs.

 
© 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Poetry Panry #180
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 139