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Sonnet To Self

How oft is the thought, be it friend or foe,
As some laud Hemmingway, a comic boast,
While others, wounded or dead, still quote Poe,
Believe the lie, Old man and the sea coast
Idled away, drinking like a fish, fool
Imitating Shakespeare at his most dull,
Void of originality, a cruel
Egotist, brutal as poor Yorick's skull!

School boys and girls play an innocent game
Dazzled by flowers and butterfly wings.
Poets and writers covet name and fame
Seeking admirers who praise their ramblings!

Stop reading, slowly sigh, and close your eyes,
Open them, see your child-heart paradise!
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4/15/2021 5:24:21 AM # 1.0.0.559