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Since his death, Bluebell woods are black with pain There is no comfort, nothing can be said The silent forest shivers in the rain Since his death, Bluebell woods are black with pain Everyone asks if he was sick or sane My dearest darling brother he is dead Since his death, Bluebell woods are black with pain There is no comfort, nothing can be said. © M.L.Emmett First published in The Mozzie Volume16, Issue 7, September 2008
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Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
Spring Triolet for Martin
Since his death, Bluebell woods are black with pain There is no comfort, nothing can be said The silent forest shivers in the rain Since his death, Bluebell woods are black with pain Everyone asks if he was sick or sane My dearest darling brother he is dead Since his death, Bluebell woods are black with pain There is no comfort, nothing can be said. © M.L.Emmett First published in The Mozzie Volume16, Issue 7, September 2008
Poem written in the Triolet form about my brother, Martin
magicpoet01
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Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
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