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Shaun Mar 25
Generally, whatever's said outside

some shack, some interim man's

dwelling/s- like his words

(are) just uttered in vain, not

cacophony, but smooth

round phrases, splayed with

well-rounded intentions.

Whether it's sonic reach

falls behind his sneeze

or his anger clouds the trees,

his shack- a mess of foul timber

shakes and struggles to hold

these words, an outflow of

his welled-up memories ( seared

through his longings)

haunted by willows, painful mist

and crumbling dwelling/s
I will go where the swallows go,
following orange sunsets and
amber wings.
I will search for bottled letters,
written in the dawn of future,
for something more than bottomless worry.
I will go where the swallows go,
sleeping in the marshes' hollow,
I only hope for tomorrow.
My lungs may burst as I cover my nose and mouth,
I give my strength to the waters now.
With its will; I could too, learn to fly.
I will go where the swallows go,
because where they lead, I do not
know, but it's something better than here;
a being to cease my
Swallows are a meaning of love/hope
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Ormond Oct 2014
We stalked and ran with endless time,
Knee deep in rains of muck, grew lost
In tails of the always new, overreached
By trammeled spots, dotting, red wings
From black birds, knobby toads, garter
Snakes that shocked, marigold swamp
And we bolted above ruddy moccasins,
As ever wet, holey, dying for new days,
Gleaming in the swelters of the horse-
Fly sun, in the giants' grasses, we were
Heroes by the falls of light, glow, dusky
Bold, joys travail and dewy eyes echoed
With sprite flashes by the flies that fired.
And all our conquests— writ in the wind.

— The End —