The sentimental comes out in me when I write poetry in this genre.
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If I were to set sail today
Leaving you behind on the Shores of Norway -
The morning dew misty upon the fields
sun rays illuminating green aspen leaves -
Good-bye my Shakespeare
Bard of purring poems -
as she stood and looked out into the
golden wheat fields -
You were the youngest in the family
Grew up to be six-foot-three -
When I was child
I slept with Winnie -
Grandma's one hundred today! Snowy
hair, wrinkled hands, dressed to the tea. -
With our obsession
to please ourselves -
Here lies the remains of a poet name D. Gregg Rowe
What clearly happened, no one knows -
GOD begat
God begat -
a grass sheet
warms his aching back21 lines, 26 comments, on Aug 12 6:07 PM 2005. In Society
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she held out her hand
bright with berries -
The secret is out for Hughes success
It's the glass of scotch held in his hand.
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