This Poem was Submitted By: stephen g skipper On Date: 2003-01-07 19:21:41 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Death At The Pilgrim

The next poet Was called to the floor. Cold came crashing in, It was me. Heart pounding  On its bone door. I now stand before you in time honoured Bardic tradition You're waiting waiting To hear Words that shine like diamonds. To hear  A prhase to keep To hear  A meaning deep, sincere Yet oblique. To see My demons laid bare. To see The soul-reavers appear And For you to taste my faer. Your wishes unfilled Soundless and shame filled I now leave the floor.

Copyright © January 2003 stephen g skipper

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