CONFESSION, MY POEM Beneath the white sky wearing shawl of - TopicsExpress



          

CONFESSION, MY POEM Beneath the white sky wearing shawl of blueish cloud i swear by the hell of Christ that i am not the sharpest knife in the drawer, that amongst the crowd am the dullest star struggling to march pass the barricaded dark cloud not even a good walker at that i flog my brain before my lines cries and from the shambolic structure there some rhythms lies look, i am not a prophet that would thy maladies or fate tell at first sight not a mastered shepherd that sheep obey at first command but like a costumed widow am happy with my lot, though my words not so right for some things; even all things i get some reprimand.
Posted on: Mon, 24 Mar 2014 10:14:23 +0000

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