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Ima Ryma


Poems of Ima Ryma

841. PPE - Battleground 11/5/2014
842. Prep Price 4/6/2013
843. Preserved 2/4/2013
844. Previously Used 9/14/2013
845. Prince John 2/7/2013
846. Pro Anti Anti Pro 12/21/2013
847. Prof Obama 3/11/2013
848. Professional Liars 3/4/2013
849. Profile of Young Black Men 11/7/2013
850. Proud of the Kids 3/25/2013
851. Psycho Pilot 4/23/2014
852. Pucker Yucker 1/9/2013
853. Pulling Neck 11/4/2013
854. Push For Compassion 3/5/2013
855. Push of a Button 10/21/2007
856. Putin On Pushy 4/7/2014
857. Python on Path 4/25/2014
858. Racism Acquired 5/27/2014
859. Racist or Rude? 4/2/2013
860. Rags to Riches 2/4/2013

Mystery Tree

The old dead tree stood on a hill,
An ugliness of jagged rot,
In looming form so dark and still
Against the sun - a lonely blot.
My folks had told me not to play
Around that tree; and so of course
I headed for it right away,
Drawn by its mysterious force.
There was an urge I would not stop.

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