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THE PENDING DEATH OF ORIGINAL POETRYNew posting on my page now. |
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RE: THE PENDING DEATH OF ORIGINAL POETRYI died today but in spirit I live on! |
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.