Alven L. Robinson
Fingers swollen in the monsoon days,
Can't find the keys beyond the haze.
No words just yet for song or sigh,
Just crows of black on laden sky.
Cicadas chant in waves of verse,
Stifling sounds of verbal curse.
Withered trees of branches broken
Rent the light of wisdom spoken.
Smiles linger in soft shade,
Sacral tidings on a barren glade.
Faith waxes in the idle clearing,
Anointing silence with the hearing.
Assurance gambles on false tears
Of reason lost in forest fears.
The hour has a fragrant call
But mercy has no place to fall.
The blackened stones along the way
Are seldom seen in light of day.
No one stands beneath the eve
To touch the rain of saint's reprieve.
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(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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