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Post by [O]ne[R]eason[2] on Oct 14, 2005 12:41:48 GMT -5
Scratch strewn faces The lingering scars of poverty They anquish silently beneath hot ashes and stones Dead, dull echoes sound with a cold liberty The angel of death; freedom alas!
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Post by - Moirae - on Jul 9, 2006 12:53:33 GMT -5
the title was a stricking contrast to your poem...not bad..sort of a delightful contrast..
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Post by Rose of the Forgotten on Jul 21, 2006 2:21:37 GMT -5
masterpoetaster, Extremely vivid - I loved your word choice! You have a very good piece here.
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Post by [O]ne[R]eason[2] on Jul 22, 2006 3:03:45 GMT -5
Thank you both for your generous words. I totally forgot about this posting and I'm glad you brought it to my attention.
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