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Poem is composed in Mixed Meter,

in order to comvey an "Asymmetrical" ambiance.

The boots moved slowly, Crunching sun-baked clay. A hazy wind down alleyways, It moves with moans Then whistles softly, Quickly gone. A child stands in a doorway Pulling something from his robe. He keys in certain numbers, Only doing as he's told. He waits, then hears a bomb As it explodes. A helmet lands and bounces Near his feet. He shrugs. then merges with a crowded street. Gene Bourne 06-03-14 .

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

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Date: 1/28/2019 2:29:00 AM
Explosion from the hands of an innocent soul ... Wonderfully written.
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Date: 1/27/2019 11:15:00 AM
Traumatising...this incessant exploitation of the poor/the innocent/the dumb/the's only a means to bring said it in such a short and simple way. The impact is great. :) Sunita
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Date: 1/27/2019 4:36:00 AM
Oh bomb! before understanding everything blended //// lovely poem, enjoyed I
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Date: 6/7/2014 8:20:00 PM
you have soupmail
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Parker Avatar
Frederic Parker
Date: 6/7/2014 8:58:00 PM
Gene to the left of your picture it says inbox, also the coffee cup next to your picture will take you to soupmail if you want to contact someone on soup
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Gene Bourne
Date: 6/7/2014 8:46:00 PM
Hi, Fred.....I need to study this sight. I've never been able to locate any mail, other than the comments, like this one. I need to learn my way around. I've been spending most PC time copy pasting the 200 poems still left on another site, before I loose them. Thanks for informing me, Fred. Your friend,......Gene