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I do not write poems About the world we see Because the world we see Does not interest me Landscapes inside my mind I find worthy of words Internal curiosities appeal to me I am bored by birds, and clouds and flowers Lakes, and trees and bees Sure there is sadness enough in the mind of a bird To fill an ocean with the tears From trillions of heart-wrenching words But you may prefer that I write about birds With innocent human minds Cute as pie, flying by, in the sky Not terrified ravenous hunters Constant killers of anything smaller All through the day, Like a child’s sinister play Or should I write of cuddly cats Who ambush innocent birds hopping by Silly birds who should have stayed in the sky ‘Tis nothing to do with a need for food ‘Tis wanton bird abuse for cats' amusement Our Earth family is Dysfunctional The truth of Mother Nature Is not what we want poets to write about Sean Hunt Windermere
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Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
A Wild Life Poem
I do not write poems About the world we see Because the world we see Does not interest me Landscapes inside my mind I find worthy of words Internal curiosities appeal to me I am bored by birds, and clouds and flowers Lakes, and trees and bees Sure there is sadness enough in the mind of a bird To fill an ocean with the tears From trillions of heart-wrenching words But you may prefer that I write about birds With innocent human minds Cute as pie, flying by, in the sky Not terrified ravenous hunters Constant killers of anything smaller All through the day, Like a child’s sinister play Or should I write of cuddly cats Who ambush innocent birds hopping by Silly birds who should have stayed in the sky ‘Tis nothing to do with a need for food ‘Tis wanton bird abuse for cats' amusement Our Earth family is Dysfunctional The truth of Mother Nature Is not what we want poets to write about Sean Hunt Windermere
sean-hunt
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Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
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