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Painter’s Society Apples are falling not far—their voices unchanged Old Walrus’ sit snorting under breath, archaic whispers Young bull’s hot breathe rushes cross a nation, freezing minds in manipulation a great roar of promises we will take care of you house you, feed you, teach your children the power of the rug, of one voice one tax, one rule, one coin of equal and the same Go back to sleep, hush— as the ringmaster uses slight of hand a new social society reigns without Stalin your house is painted |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2012-03-04 19:43:04
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Lora
[Before the poem, a question: would you consider using a different font for your poems ... Times New Roman or Goudy Old Style, perhaps? It will add more "weight" :-) ]
...and this IS a weighty poem. It has echoes of the Lord of the Rings to it ... One Ring to rule them all.
I was going to offer my read on what this could be referring to, but what's the point? It covers a multitude of sins, and strongly.
Best wishes,
Mark.