Alexander Coppedge

Rookie - 75 Points (June 25,1954 / Warrenton, North Carolina)

My Magic Stone - Poem by Alexander Coppedge

It's a good friend when we really need one
It never said it wouldn't stay
Companion soothing us in our discomforts
When our heads seems to be splitting
A rescuer when we are failing physically
When we come to diagnosis ourselves sick
Times our heads aches from worries
Mind in bad throbbing pain
This friend is a product of science
Science given choice for numbing ease
Our quench from pain in some form of relief
Our friend is a cure to please
Doctors given views unto us in pill forms
Joy to us to be regained
Our escape from our amounting complaints
End to our strifes, fatigues and hidden twinges
Lion guard in on charge as a remedy
Shield placed against our countless lames
Cure aimed target is to conquer which ills
A magical mystic piece it is
Round white stone in its appearance
Pill made of various items
Items powdered from compounded elements
Here in our hands a tiny compack
All for a single price of having it
Our escape from sorrows land
Body nightmares which torments us
Reply to our secret un-acclaimed
Our self stated agonies with strifes burdens
Its our sound sleep from stress and anguish
Aid when harsh world makes us cry
Fountain of youth with refreshing healing
Assistance to us or a moment brief solution
Items in pills holds many keys
Components treatment to all our ills
Pill is armoured and a true warrior
Pill is in condensed presentation
Pill is an absolute miracle
Fighter against inflections which its cures
Bright magic stone prolonging life
Pill is tested and totally approved
Truth is not in pill spoken wisdom
Pill does not verbally talk
Pill doesn't speak in lectures
Pill does not chat in schools
Or does the pill answers any doubts
Our known questions asked by nerds
Thoughts by the masses which do speak out
Nor does the pill utters any intents
Any understood sound we know
Our brilliant stone of science
Creation without a brain

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Form: Prose Poem


Poet's Notes about The Poem

The world or fleshly man miracle cure Prior to that it was roots I know I'm a victim Boiled them and wrap them and place them on the chest Childhood You got to love it

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Poem Edited: Saturday, July 18, 2015


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