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  • Writer's pictureBrent Nevy

Poem the Fourth (Midterm Poem)



Another fanciful edition to read;

One unto other may destined to succeed.

Saunter here and squander your brightest epoch;

Not much to do here but take a long, dazed look.

Who’s to give account for every word you've read?

So hard to decide which bundle goes in your head!


I condole your discord of destiny and ambition.

We’ll both hope in vain that they’ll reach fruition.

Please do not hesitate to concur to my admissions:

That there are some things innate to our conditions.

Inks are tinted hidden colours beyond your cognitions.

Dull shapes shuffle threads and shift to erratic positions.

Chaos is a shrewd fellow’s domain.

You’re a fool to think you play its game.


You may as well be the fourth to arrive,

Though it may not be the rank you will strive.

Your earnest efforts are right to be admired,

A better man than you could even inspire.

Still, they wouldn't accept a penny's pence.

Not even I would.

Still, you shouldn’t expect it to make sense.

And maybe I should.

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