James McLain

Gold Star - 40,509 Points (1958 - / From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By)

The Plow Man - Poem by James McLain

Nighttime come and I am going out against.
Prohibition of the sounds death is before the knell
of the currants running past today.

Slow burning is the fire
the wind I hear the roaring crowd.
That the method of becoming comes before.

Heavily to her I return obtaining.
Upon the glassy plain and today her plowman,
and the leafy kiss is darkness to my world.

Now shining faintly I view new vision,
and all air which in silence the reigns I've grasp.
That lonely monotone if you exclude that where,
and drowsy inklings alleviates the distant cold.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, December 5, 2011

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