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19.6.07

I am not a poet

My poetry is hit and miss and I cannot seem to grasp what makes a piece good or God awful.
Please let me know if this is a bulls eye or a dart stuck into the carpet. Thank you, Thank you.



No bruises to call bones
just black and white
ink scratching out scars
while stars tell nothing,
keep their counsel,
tight lipped and bright.
Night covers the tracks
of those not innocent
while young minds dream.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

It's rather fantastic in my humble opinion. I really like it.

DJ Kirkby said...

made me sad...