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Writer's pictureRussell Jacklin

Without poetry, my life would be,



An ocean without waves.

Exist without being brave,

Without love, I am unsaved.


Frankness misplaced, I fear,

Music unheard by a silenced ear,

Landscaped views, alas unclear.


Humility without charity,

Perception, without clarity,

Truth without sincerity.


Seasons out of time,

Reasons without rhyme,

Speech set to mime.


Poetry is the sand grains on a beach,

Stars in heaven, once considered out of reach.

Lush blades of grass, green bleached


She’s my mistress, my lover

A companion, a friend.

The last breath when I grow weary,

An accomplice to my end.


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