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Lawrence Hall Sep 2018
The nectar of youth from which the hummingbirds fed
In the joyful sweetness of their morning flights
Now sullies and sours the afternoon hours
Through bitter infestations and corruptions

Its former clarity corrupted now
Trapped in a tube of stagnation and rot
And scavenged by a malevolent wasp
Her batlike wings pulsing malignantly

But there is always hope: new songs, new words
In the morning’s return of sweet hummingbirds
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
chris  Jan 2016
chris Jan 2016
gentle is the night.
the morning light
is too sharp for sight.
batlike, i shall hide,
waiting for the moon to rise.
chris  Nov 2015
.
chris Nov 2015
.
gentle is the night.
the morning light
is too sharp for sight.
batlike, i shall hide,
waiting for the moon to rise.
poem that i wrote for english 2 years ago

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