Thy love shall never waver or deviate
A harmonic union we'll always keep
Our hearts and souls to ever correlate
Dearest thy pool of love for you is deep
Our garden shall be full with loveliness
Thy dreams have come true we'll be entwining
No sweeter day has come for happiness
Together our future full of shining
We'll sail on beautiful clouds endlessly
Thy is manifold with delight this day
In a paradise we'll be eternally
Our cup of love doth overflow so say
With our sacred marriage vows enshrined
We'll be affectionately combined

The plagiarist hath vacated this space
Yet his shadow still lingers at the place
In the nose one well senses it about
So oft an odor doth waft on the air
Which can be veiled by visage fair
The eyes are peeled they're ever watching
For that person of the copyist's cloning
Twill not be duped by untruthful flout
This day of its appearance yet unseen
Could there be a hiding behind the screen
Though the master duplicator hath fled
His presence is hovering over the joint
Of type in image same he did anoint
Within HP's walls it doth share our bed

The master copyist hath made an appearance
Without being given the proper clearance
He's just blown in at another poetry site
One bets he'll be at his usual caper
Plagiarizing poet's work on his paper
Twas noted that he'd come to have a look
For poems which he could put in his own nook
None can be credited as a true write
This chap is serial at knocking things off
No wonder we should of him verily scoff  
As bold as a brass **** he was stealing
Slipping under the radar's scope to ******  
He's made that locale his casual patch
Hope he hasn't purloined those poet's writing

the many body bags fill with each passing day
conflicts on other soil hath put them there
family and friends hear of deaths far away
where the explosive devices don't care
the troops sent to countries of other view
their arrival greeted with hostility
stepping on foreign tract means a slew
nowhere is there a trace of affability
our soldiers our sons our brothers our boys
engaged in wars where they'll pay profound
military planners implement their ploys
the caskets keep returning to home ground
soldiers wrapped in disposable bags
with serial numbers on their dog-tags

Thy quill hath become somewhat weary
Writing poems daily without any respite
On the bullet casing one shall now bite
A break away to restore thy energy
Vigor hath drained to a very low point
Penning poetic lines so exhausting
Time out is required for recharging
Thy quill's black ink doth not want to anoint
Within the next day or so I'll return
Feeling more refreshed and full of vim
Thy cannot keep pouring words on a page
Of late the candle hath done a high burn
Thy powers to write are becoming dim
To have a session of rest is most sage