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Click hereBlown away such facile words
Be well also words
Fill me with those
self-serving meanings
Sometimes I will sit and
eat mangoes
and watch the world go by
Sometimes I will sway to that
cadence I hear in the winds.
More often the ghouls fill
shrouds and take Me away
where is everyone
where are the shades
My mind is a slate
then where is My canvas,
pristine and clear
Dischorded sounds, fill
My ears
My senses
reel and the voices still
Take me where gentle ones
keep Me sane
They will be Mine , I whispered
to the breezes
They should be Mine, I whispered
to the seas
They have to be Mine, I whispered
to the bubbling stream
cascading off stones and crags
lowering over the sheened water
look deep and see Me looking back
She is Mine , I whispered
to the roiling lava
Did anyone Listen?
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 38,500 poems.
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I loved the cadence, as well as the imagery that ran rampant in this piece.