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Xvi: Siren At Midnight

Innocent weavers Sat still mourning – The siren heralded At midnight The emergency swords in the rafter Like a lone early morning cock. The forest was a terror spot Helter-skelter in blood-discolouration Marking a nest of the free? Terror & anger clashed Again & again In man rearing the seeds of the night: Shrewd pebbles of inviolable intents And mutilated feathers in a battered nest!

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 10/15/2009 2:24:00 PM
Interesting thoughts put to pen. Keep writing. Sara
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things