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They say the wind
it rides across
the pages of time
seldom in its early
drop does every bit
of love stop
in query deep
I see it
as a dream
to accept the love
lent by
the poet pen
in hand
some of the best
are here
residing
just beyond
the vail of truth
is a super slueth
of words that fits
the dream lost
to ordinary eyes
child of the vampire
cries in unrest
hope that day will fade
and the color
turn to jade
stake of the real
God will
ride rough shod
on the murders
of blood let
in but one
moment of solice
stand forgives
all the man
we of shalom
come hear
the words of fear
but do not run
as the pirate of old
we cherish both
the gold
our soul
cannon booms across
the page
with a child
we write
into another age
perfect song
with melody sweet
taste the glory
of the street
children one an' all
see the hero
bide by the call
to arms
save all
the writers
here from harm
willows bend
in the storm
writers take
the cue
from the norm
each his own
loving piece
from here
I will release
yet another
thought or two
who is the best
writer among
all of you
it is of cource you,
and you, oh yes
you too
so wonderfull
the stage
is set
words of love
and hate
it is never
to late
to find
a sonnet
or a sound
that will
keep the love
from pouring
down grate
of gold opens
slow and the
winner is
always the last
to know..
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