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Reading Poetry

 

A line,

Within a poem,

Can stand, like soldiers stand,

To carry through, without demand.

 

A line,

Within a poem

Can give, with deadly stealth,

The riches of the author’s wealth.

 

A line,

Within a poem,

Can dream the dreams you dream

To leave you helpless, in its scheme.

 

And, inward looking, sees the strain

Of that wits end-weaved pain

The scars that tell the story there

Of a soul laid open and bare.

 

Dreams yet, of dreamless slumber

Without the pain to encumber,

As the author lifts and weaves

His pen through scattered leaves.

 

◄ A Winter Garden

Hermitage ►

Comments

Lady Denyse

Sat 9th Jan 2016 20:06

An enjoyable read. I particularly liked the last 2 stanzas :)

Patrick Rushe

Sat 9th Jan 2016 18:49

Thank you for your comments...the poem came about whilst reading a poem and realising where one line or a word was actually taking me...

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M.C. Newberry

Sat 9th Jan 2016 16:07

An essential truth, often overlooked - and pleasingly
evoked in these lines.
How many instances there be: occasionally but lovingly
misspelt or misquoted.
"Half a league, half a league, half a league onward..."
"I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea
and the sky..."
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"
The list is etched in time and we are all sure to have our
own favourites.

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