Untitled - Poem by PATRICIA DOBROSIPEARSON
Have you ever studied the impression
that words make upon a page?
The beauty in the rythmn
the passion in the strength of the pen,
knowing which words to press
and which to shadow.
They need not start
at the margin
they need not end on
the last line
they form their own semitry
their own language
a work of art buried for you to uncover
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye