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It is how we are and who we are
that we live out here on the edge
the ragged rim of the world
It’s the nature of our vice
And So The Women Wept
In the noise and dust of that dark day
When pain and anger mingled.
Where Love was driven on with whips and jeers
shouldering the oppressive burden of a sinful world.
The Box From The Attic
A Father's Medals World War One
The wrist band from a stillborn son
The first picture of the two (now three)
An Old Irish Fiddle, Left to me
To Slay The Dragon
Throw off the soft cheeks of childhood
But not the joy nor laughter.
Let not the dragon's roar
stop your eyes and ears.
A Man Of Two Islands
I am a man of two green islands
Which by unhappy force and nature
Have become home to five peoples
Not that these people are different
Your Children Are Always Your Children
In your eye’s the child
never ends,
nor should it
Oh the limbs grow,
The Chosen
You who were the 'Chosen',
you who suffered long.
You who wore the yellow star,
The victims of great wrongs.
Young Sons
A mother takes down a photo
And she holds it to her breast
Just has she’d done the child it shows
The God Of Hedgehogs
I am the God of Hedgehogs
It’s a living, though quite small
Yet still within my mood swings
Hedgehogdoms rise or fall
An Audience Granted
I saw him briefly once,
like a three dimensional
shadow on the lake.
And I was breathless in

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5/11/2021 2:11:18 AM #