Fire of Fury

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Fire of Fury

These woods are stricken with Elijah’s curse.
Yea, never were their days afflicted worse.
No refuge lies to harbor as a nurse;
What trek is such a treacherous traverse!

When fire strikes, no whisper will be heard,
Nor heavy indignation when incurred.
To loosen what a mind has bound and blurred
To foster peace, would be a thing absurd:
These woods will but ignite at just a word,
And after seconds, fall, consumed and stirred.

And woe to what befalls the arid hive
Which rain may only hope to keep alive:
The wood that bides an age to branch and thrive,
When fire strikes, is hopeless to survive.

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If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

Legato’s Poems (3)

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Fire of Fury 0
Dominoes 0
The Past 2