Disposable Poetry

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poems written on the fly

the one they call by no name

I hold tight
the reigns
and like Atlas
with the world
on his shoulders

I struggle
and raise hell
above my head

to find my
flat blackened soul
laid bare

would if I could
pick it up
but I’ve not
a hand to spare

(D. James)

Filed under: art, d. james, literature, overweight champions, poem, poetry, writing , , ,

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