Bedside Manor By Royal L. Craig
Delightfully diverse reading
He was still,
Like the placid lake in summer when the mountain holds its breath,
He was still,
Like the fawn down in the high grass where the tiger signals death.
THE COURIER AND SHIVA
The Lancers must be warned tonight.
He smiled and looked at me
It’s sure to be a nasty fight
But first, a cup of tea
For all the world
The poem I need to write
Cannot be written.
The words I need to say
Cannot be said.
An awesome mystery haunts the heart
At the sight of an empty house
The echo of living dampens the air
All but the spirits have fled
When Andy met Candy he thought it was dandy
To take her for fine tea and cake.
Candy had need and slyly agreed
To have their tea by the lake.
Have you ever stood
Where the winding wood
Sweeps down to the seamless sea
Well, big Jimmy was pulling the plow when it nosed into a split in that rock.There must have been a crack in the blade for it to snap so easily. – -He reared back and took off with the broken plow clanging behind.It chased him all the way to the barn.That was a sight!
In the beginning, this is how it began,
So the mystics tell us
When there was nothing,
There was That, that Is – ever-existing,
How To Tell If Your Really Dead
If you find there’s no tomorrow,
And your friends are draped in sorrow,
And you really can’t remember last night’s binge;
You may think that you’re in clover
But, dear friend, you have passed over,
My mind cried out to the infinite,
“Tell me of the beginning.”
A child came, softly singing,
“He was when there was nothing;
Before the ages had their start.
Sitting in the garden,
Catch Him if you can
In the quiet of your heart.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Royal’s studies in mysticism have resulted in Bedside Manor, Part 1.
Study of life with has resulted in Bedside Manor, Part 2.
He is working on a book on mysticism, and teaches creative writing locally.He also writes ‘How to Write’ articles.
I have lived on the lip
of insanity, wanting to know reasons,
knocking on a door.It opens
I’ve been knocking from the inside!
Poetry reveals reflective insight on the escape clause in the illusion called life.I write to show the magic hidden in the moment whether mysticism, serious poetry, ballads, or nonsense.