Poetry Blogs (2020, shakespearean Sonnet)

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Grave

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Grave

 

I am the scythe that cuts through old and young

In cornfields where the idle crows watch on

As scarecrows flap their arms in summer sun

And wonder where the greedy birds have gone

The weeds grow now where once the sharp blade fell

Stealing from us all that we once held dear

There are no devils in this weeping hell

Only children transformed through pain and fear

...

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Sonnet 91 In The Age Of The Slow Departure

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Sonnet 91 In The Age Of The Slow Departure

 

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,

Some like to brag of money that they make

Some just want the power to force their will

Some never choose to give but only take.

And every politician takes a vow

To do the people’s true will without fail

Yet what are all these promises worth now

The desperate cry is screamed to no...

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Cursed Be He That Moves My Bones

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Cursed Be He That Moves My Bones

“Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare,
To dig the dust enclosed here.
Blessed be the man that spares these stones,
And cursed be he that moves my bones.”

 

How often did I studiously fail

to untangle your brier patch of words.

Encouraged by my teachers to prevail

in setting free the frustrated songbirds,

so that their melody could swell the heart

...

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