Best Staff Poems
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How strangely life will turn around, reverse, then come again
I remember how he would tiptoe in, from a warm and downy bed
He’d wink at me, then beckon me, while twinkling stars peeked in
In kitchen light, a bite to eat, a midnight snack, he said
I would pour the milk, and he would smile, then carefully tear the bread
The staff of life, a simple thing, these two small bowls of wheat
My Dad and I, the broken bread, with milk on top, or cream instead
A bit of sugar or honey dripped, to make it slightly sweet
Such a little thing, so comforting, and helped us both to sleep
And in my care, his dwindling years…especially at the end
He was fading then, no appetite, few foods that he could eat
Soft bread I’d make, with milk poured in, would help us think of then
I’d sit upon his bed and talk, and help him spoon some in
The things in life turn inside out, somehow come back again
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For the Contest: Sponsored By Regina Riddle "Intimate Relationships"
What color are you
What language do you speak
Where are you from
What religion are you
Can you speak the same language as I
Do you think that any of that really matters
The answer to that my friends, of course, is no
You are all my brothers and sisters
No matter what color, language or religion you are
If you fell into the quicksand
For sure, I would hand you the other end of my staff
And with extreme integrity
You shall grasp onto it
And with all my god given power
Shall I wrench you out
And rescue you from certain death
If your hands become too weak
It is only because god himself
Has handed you the other end of his staff
MysticMisfits™ Staff Directory
Staff Spotlight:The WanderPoet
Position: Ephemeral Verse Consultant
Clock-in Time: Unknown
Clock-out Time: Immediately After You Notice Him
You won’t see him arrive.
You might catch a glimpse--
a flicker of velvet,
a whisper that sounds like unfinished poetry.
He drifts between aisles,
scribbling stanzas on the backs of receipts,
leaving notes folded in teacups,
and misquoting love spells near the lip balm display.
He never applied for the job.
He just appears
right before a storm,
drops a single verse,
and vanishes before the ink dries.
We tried giving him a name tag once.
It wrote itself into a sonnet
and dissolved in moonlight.
Check back often. New employees arrive whenever the veil thins… or HR sneezes.
Staff Meeting
At my desk each morning,
over my first cup off coffee,
I call the staff meeting to order,
a gathering together
of my various bits and parts
that scattered in the night,
each to its own devices,
be they terror,
notes on that yellow legal pad,
erotic fantasy,
unrepeatable indecencies
uttered in an unfamiliar patois,
a mélange of whirs and clicks,
whooshing breaths,
mah jong tiles scattered in patterns
I don’t understand.
On mornings that don’t hurt
they settle gently
into orderly arrangements,
designs and lines of poems,
the fabric of my day.
Other mornings,
the more ordinary ones,
they reject my need,
become ash
that I scoop into the urn
of yet another
lost
day.
The sorcerer’s staff
a powerful will…
Energy stored concept
to good or evil
but the sorcerer takes
all the credit.
The staff ignites
a multitude of fire balls…
The sorcerer stands alone
in awe
afraid to take credit
the staff may retaliate.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Third Place Winner ~ "MagicWords” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Leighann Anderson
July. 10, 2011
flags at half staff flown
Silent crosses bare wittness....
"Taps" and freedom join
My Holiday choice: Veterans Day
for the contest: Holiday Haiku
Repunzel’s high in the castle
With hair’s neat knots in a tassel
This sweet young flower
So blond in the tower
Is for beauticians a hassle
A Manager Can Tenderly Hold Her Staff
Determined that sense will hold structure and be,
Diffusing grace for many to see,
The counters and pillars bold,
Of the firm so cold:
Personal?
Hold
Your mural,
Not your sins all told;
Trust and with affection mould,
Your place in the company and tree,
Determined that sense will hold, structure and be,
He bought everyone
A choux pastry
Filled with cream
And half covered with chocolate,
To eclair the air.
Faith requires both the rod and the staff to get salvation;
whoever fails in this quest will experience much tribulation.
Try to climb the rockiest mountain, you have ever seen
without the rod, you will fall into the pit.
Try to live without God, and never lean
on his staff, your feet will get weak and make you slip.
Uphold His laws and learn from His mouth as His words burst,
He promises that He won't let your burden be heavier
than the one you can easily carry on either shoulder;
His wisdom is the spring that will quench your desperate thirst.
From the bottom of the valley to the mountain's peak,
you climbed singing and listening to that hummingbird.
David did the same, never showing a sign of being weak;
he kept on climbing cliffs happily, feeling a puff of wind.
Faith requires both the rod and the staff to get salvation;
not having these two, we're thrown into the depths of damnation.
The rod is that vital strength to overcome sins of any sort;.
the staff is that strong shoulder we lean on when we're distraught.
Written on 1/ 14/ 2016
Inspired by King David's Psalm 23:1-6:
" I will feel no evil, for You are with me. Your rod and Your staff,
they comfort me. "
At fourteen I created
a miniature painting:
a portrait of an actress I highly admired;
nothing exceptional or thrilling.
At fifteen I wrote my first verse,
whoever read it: thought it was far from terse
with thoughts that didn't connect,
or revealed intellect.
At forty I started writing
notes on the staff with perfect pitch while feeling
the spirit of Mozart
teaching me the tricks of his art.
Written on 11/20/2016
When I feel persecuted and totally on my own-
I pray to God, who sits upon the Holy Throne.
Every fear and problem I have, I send to God alone-
Because He is the foundation, the true corner stone.
Therefore, no matter what might happen, I will succeed-
Because I worship the One who holds the Sacred Staff and Reed.
Determined that rationality will be,
Diffusing grace for many to see,
The counters and pillars bold,
Of the firm so cold:
Personal?
Hold
Your mural,
Not your sins all told;
Trust and with affection mould,
Your place in the company and tree,
Such that yourself and your colleagues you will free.
The dreaded weekly full staff meeting,
Every Thursday, straight after school.
Where each teacher sits through mind numbing talk,
That’s neither fun, intriguing nor cool.
The new teachers sit, pen in hand,
Hanging on every word.
Whilst the other teachers sit, falling asleep,
With their eyes becoming a little bit blurred.
Power points, microphones, projectors and pens,
Graphs, stats, and annual trends.
Let’s not pretend these are interesting ways,
To develop strategies among teaching friends.
These weekly full meetings where everything’s said,
And nothing ever seems to sink in.
It’s my relaxing mental therapy session,
Where all my mental junk goes to the bin.
Thurgood Marshall comes to mind terrorists domestic forcing an honor student to bring the family personal computer to school to hack into the families personal information corrupting files corrupting the american family the fundamental hardship of destruction of free thinkers in America never afraid of truth the highest order of law wholesome goodness compromised