Alexander Coppedge

Rookie - 403 Points (June 25,1954 / Warrenton, North Carolina)

My Magic Stone - Poem by Alexander Coppedge

Our search for a treatment when parts ache, a tart for pain when ill, us victims in hurt carted away in state.

Times diagnosed say in sick illness, a slayer hay patch to attack sickness, its play days in colds sweetness had fun.

A friend to be there with us, our put worries adhere too, a factor given directed upon mere strife that trouble us.

Puck to bury shell miseries, it combat woes end suck of our energies, as muck fights operational twinges pores.

Fountain to youth rock does dissolves in body, fact from docked anxieties, a tick had detaining discomforts ooh.

Government set as a pusher to hook citizens, cooked for idiots a said formation, its image once took a Specter.

Product to collect dollars, a tug of mini-monster collar, its pillar sold is to quench our had hollows we know.

Pill is kind and is known to the world, comforting find down with us warrior, like the wind without a brain.

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Topic(s) of this poem: human condition, medical

Form: Prose Poem

Poet's Notes about The Poem

As a child under five, I held few interests about others doings about the house: except this time. My sense of fear went off, ignoring grandmother wishes for me to leave grown ups feeling this threat: very rare for me to disobey. I saw a Blair salesman, his suitcase held its TKO to both of my grand. The Holy Text states God as our healer, promising to wipe all our tears, Him to end even death. I as an adult have to wonder in views because we have science statements also, and their proclaims to patch. Who do I chose?

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Poem Edited: Tuesday, March 21, 2017

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