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magpies and black ink

paper and pen are but melancholy,
slate ashes stamped in words
that can't patch the notebook sky,
it's too transparent

I heard the grandfather clock ring of bird chimes
and I am in 1961;
that many wings
streaming down people's thirst for nature


looking out window:

leaves fall from enormous tree,
but the branches
never freed from nostalgic chirps

that scavenge my ink

and my ears drew a nightfall
of unquiet pianos in clouds

In a list

A contest entry

critical critiques, if they don't tear my emotion down

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Comments


  • nevadapoet
    October 25, 2008
    Edit | Reply
    excellent...great imagery and metaphors...very strong.


  • badnovocaine
    October 10, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    WOW! Thats all I have to say.
    This is an awesome piece of work and I really liked how you ended it, and I also love the background you put with this poem, it adds a bit of flavor.

    Good luck in the contest.