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  Aug 2017 The Misconstrued
Pagan Paul
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My beautiful Lady, I see your scars,
deep in your eyes, hidden in stars.
Let me hold you, please come near,
I'll give you warmth, banish your fear.

You've been taken from your mother tree,
tossed in the wind, blown to me.
Let your eyes shine, show me belief,
I'll show you love, my Lady Leaf.

© Pagan Paul (31/07/17)
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Lord of Green series, poem 12
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I hammered some words
Out from the quarry of my brain
They fell around in shards;
Some like boulders,
some like rocks and rubble
I picked them up one by one.
Block on block, I piled them up
Thinking I could build a ‘pleasure dome’

But,
     When it was time for the workman
      To marvel over the beauty and wonder
      Of his dream creation  
      His masonry tumbled down
      Like sand castles built
      By little hands on sea strands
      Or dunes of quicksand sliding down

I have lost count of the times,
This has happened before.
Now that I stay resigned,
Amid a heap of debris

Is there any use feeling remorse?

Like Nero fiddled on his harp
When Rome was burning
I sit on this pile of wreck
Piping my thoughts away
In the cusp between victory and defeat
Exacting as much ecstasy as I can
Before the truth looms large
In all its stark nakedness!
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