Chronicle


I am a pauper at the gates of no return
praying for pennies in halls of sober grave.
I am the echo of frail bones that burn
while all that I am cannot stay the wave
that beats on my skin
... the world is my only kin.




Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2008-06-06 at 09:46

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Stan Cooper The PoetBay support member heart!
Bob...you won't be, pauper or not, at the gates of no return for
quite awhile...Your poems, though often in a negative realistic vein, demand that you stay in this world to continue writing...
This kind of talent that you possess should go on and on

Stan
2008-06-06