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His Fire Soothes

 

 

What a wilderness,

a surely forsaken land,

that we wander on.

 

Gladly we setup camp,

us lonely hearts,

round his slowburning fire.

 

We are warm; we are content

here tonite.

 

But I fear tommorrow; I fear

I shall close my eyes yet still see horrible things

dispite his blinding light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A contest entry

    I plan to revise this poem: please leave constructive criticism!
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Comments


  • Ken-Maverick
    October 11
    Edit | Reply

    JUDGED!!

    "But I fear tommorrow; I fear
    I shall close my eyes yet still see horrible things
    dispite his blinding light." <---a very nice way to end this poem.

    Well done poet,
    Thanks for entering and all the best to you in the contest.

    Ken