Is It Poetry
Blind The World
One more word or less, some one else has said.
Human being's that can't give pause,
our efforts now are vain.
Sadly now we go out to seek our fame and fortune.
Be it right or wrong, the same sad song.
Here their once were birds that came to sing,
their song we all could hear.
Blind I've been to see what we could never hold so dear.
Clouds we reinvent to feel the rain,
and sun set skies we see to help the pain.
How we came to let the moon rise now.
One more word or less such knowledge is ignored.
No one intervenes now I must go.
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(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(14 October 1888 – 9 January 1923)
(8 February 1911 – 6 October 1979)
(23 January 1861 - 2 Apirl 1931)
(27 December 1797 – 15 February 1869)
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