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Golden Quill Quest

White doves sit on our window sill
One ponders peace, eternal will
Countless dreams does it now fulfill
Cradled in hope's hands, not to spill

Dullards seek weak concepts to kill
Artists think up ideas that thrill
Extra effort helps climb the hill
Sometimes fail, not for lack of skill
To taste again a bitter pill
We all know too well this droll drill

Will wisdom wield the golden quill
Strike solid blows for good, not ill
Once finally fed and had its fill
Oh soulful sigh, fate's clock stops still
Copyright © Greg Gaul | Year Posted 2021
Wednesday, March 10, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: peace,hope,wisdom,fate
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Monorhyme
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4/18/2021 12:01:37 AM # 1.0.0.559