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Da Kleinmeier Poem
Imagine a lovely garden , tea for two , and this story...
for only to me , came a poem from His breath
The world He'd done right , ' cept some Irish that were left
So He took these lefties to reason things out
For the Irish don't worry , and never seem to pout
With tears in their words , like their vows said in chapel
Only lefties of the Irish gut a poem with a scalpel
It pains me so , when the righties lament
From the poems that are written in the Irish cement
daniel Hall Kleinmeier-poet
Copyright © Da Kleinmeier | Year Posted 2009
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Details |
Da Kleinmeier Poem
There's a mirror in the mantle , in the dust and the mold
It hangs like a poem , with a story to be told
Now it's pitted and boned , and reflects only cracks
By a candle that flickers , dripping tears full of wax
A story of neglect , like some hinge full of rust
Of words never written , of a Father's trust
Gone in those books , with a poet on the spine
Sleep knights full of armor , and thrones masculine
This mirror in the mantle , with reflections now dim
Once looked over a family and father within
Now it's forgotten , and waits on the wall
To beam a reflection that covers us all
It's pitted and boned , like a scroll by the sea
And hangs like the Savior still looking at me
Copyright © Da Kleinmeier | Year Posted 2011
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