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9nelson

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Dried pine needles, dampened leaves,
resting on the sodden ground.
Blowing winds with edges sharp,
shaking boughs of downcast firs.

And deep inside the leaves and twigs,
wilting,shining in the rain,
a murky,subterranean realm
resides.Sepulchral and hollow.

In this place, upon a stone,
that darkened, turbid waters wash,
a lonely figure with head bowed,
sits, and with tones toneless chants,

a lament with no words,
a lament with no name.


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The following comments are for "Untitled"
by marigold

untitled
I love the visuals this poem inspires. Nice work.

( Posted by: nelson [Member] On: February 21, 2005 )





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