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Nov 2009
Whilst a modern verse is a movement in time
Structure and content should by no means define
A cat can bare flesh in ways more than one
But a readers delight is not always from fun.  

So backwards we travel our own time machine
Its noise mute, bar the tapping of keys
We see all we know but know not all that we see
Tales of emotion, perfect poetic prose
A time for reflection without future woes

Could you pick a winner the old or the new
Your Granddad, your child, the new or old you
Written by
James Andrew Wood
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