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An extraordinary way of looking at ordinary things.
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I came across a contest and thought I'd give it a try. This is the result.
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The title says it all.
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One of my first. A simple poem about a forest that has been cut down. A shorter version of this was published under the title, Where Are They?.
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Weeping like rain,
Smiling through pain.
Running from hurt,
Crumbling to dirt.
Falling from sky,
The dove will now die.
~A.J.P~
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She sits there, folded into herself,
Guarded by shadows, shielded from eyes.
Her soul soars over the masses.
Flies to the heights of emancipation.
..
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The guns will snap. The bombs will fall.
But you, brave one, still headed the call
to protect your country, the land o..
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