BLEACHED BONES
All the madness
had leached out
into the soil
what was left
but a fine dust
to be dispersed
by the wind
and rain.
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THE TALKING HEAD
The take
on this
or that
when it's not
their life
hanging by a thread
over the precipice.
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PIE IN THE SKY
Eat crow
and humble pie
with the best
but I baulk
at the white flag
of defeat.
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ving@optusnet.com.au
Aussie poet,born in Italy.
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