Liberté

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Thy pen; no mighty sword here preach
Where words, metallic, fall.
On blood-ink lines; stained city streets -
Oh time, thou horrors crawl.
Wrought freedom flits, it waxes, ebbs,
Whence censored bullets rain,
But fallow not among the dead
Doth liberty remain.

 

Copyright © Simon Austin 2015

Charlie HebdoJe Suis CharlieParisPoemPoetryTerrorism

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Comments

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M.C. Newberry

Tue 13th Jan 2015 16:15

This is good! If I were to change one thing, it
would be to replace the archaic "Doth" with a
more hopeful "Will" in the last line.

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