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Poetry Sit down or take a stand in this poetry section.


Junkman

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  #1  
Old 06-07-2016, 11:19 PM
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and I pray for God to send his love
as the sanguine sun gets lost above.
He asked me frankly: tired or sick?
Searched my soul but couldn't pick.

Oh, drooping eyes and nodding heads
like wilted flowers in sunken beds.
Anointed soil, a gift from God
to keep the sickman standing strong.

Lonesome man, strangest land;
Caged up beast the world has damned.
But I don't need no other man
to help me through forsaken lands,
and I don't need no girl to free
the deepest part that lies in me.
No, I don't need no one to see.
I'm just fine with God in me.

Within the blood that holds my veins,
my God is there. I'm not ashamed.

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Old 06-08-2016, 07:41 PM
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Powerful, with good imagery. I'm unclear as to how the second paragraph relates to rest of the poem. Not that it doesn't. It does, but the images seem a little out of phase, as if they need adjustment? ( Hopefully that makes sense. ) The title is pure genius. I'm quite taken with the philosophical and psychological implications of it. It's a memorable poem.
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