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This island they came to
in seclusion, with
satin marble marking
cotton spun homes.
The rock strewn landscape
offered no shelter.
Oracle of older
sailors, the cave of Apollo
an imploded altar, became
the incubation chamber.
Items of war were cast
down in corner and path,
old ways remembered.
Minds growth in time
bringing with it
labour, finding in it
a wide resource of
marked courage.
Now new hands
can shape their words
of carved stone, of
a peoples growth.

Ask not what you can do to poetry, but what poetry can do to you.

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The following comments are for "Refugee"
by londongrey

Claire and Lucie
Thank you so much, talk about ego boost!!

I am working so hard at the moment on writing 'poetry' in a pure sense, cutting out modifiers, abstracts and cliche. I hope it is paying off.

I guess it is in a way because the two responses were different from before, more literary than feeling, does that make sense?

Thank you again.

Alex xxx

( Posted by: londongrey [Member] On: November 13, 2004 )

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