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The Clay

With fists full of clay we build the ball reproducing all along and some just love the clay so they take it from the others still some just give their shares away because they love their neighbors while the artists plunge deep their colours into the barren, pale, dull grey bringing forth the fruits of life from the blinding and grinding day to day where we all bury each other while playing in the clay

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 9/4/2009 5:20:00 AM
Mark, this is deep thought. Sara
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Date: 8/15/2009 5:28:00 PM
Good afternoon Mark. Thank you for sharing your fantastic poetry today. I enjoyed reading it. Love, Carol
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things