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Take this verse from "A Crumbled Dandelion Road":
The world tells me that it will all be over soon,
as I drink my last bottle of vinegar and regret.
Are we still trying to fabricate masterpieces,
or have we decided that it's not enough?
To me, this epitomizes a sad artistic life. The poem goes on to examine the road one travels from innocence to maturity.
Lines like this one from "Dripping into the Memories" evoke clear visions:
So now here I will forever lay,
with shards of glass within my sea-stormed bay.
Poetry is not en vogue much anymore, it seems, and it makes me sad. It is a necessary component for reading and writing well. I heartily recommend this book as a great start for those of you who want to learn more or who enjoy good poetry.
Link to Amazon
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