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The feather crashes to the ground.
On one leg stands a single crane.
The snow falls without a sound,
And birds quieten during the rain.

Awaiting words to read out loud,
To fill the silence like a shroud
Over my nose, eyes, mouth and ears.
If I don't feel, sound disappears.

There is no noise in the background
No more white stuff, hum or drumming:
The sound of nothing, black and round,
Knowledge of all that is coming.

There is a comfort in this place -
A status quo to celebrate.
No need to think, no need to race,
Enjoy the freedom to create.


◄ Insight

Ready about ►


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Marie-Anne Marten

Wed 7th Jan 2015 22:07

Thank you for your comments Graham. I have made small changes to the poem, and I think it reads much better; the rhyme was also a bit "twee" in V4 - but better now :-)

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Graham Sherwood

Wed 7th Jan 2015 16:44

Nicely put together Marie-Anne.
I would change the word blanket in V2 to give yourself more options to rhyme with (shroud perhaps etc).

Well done and good to see you here.


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