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Impermanence -Promote Yourself


This Mallard stink of home,

this scent of three in one,

the river banks to left.

The Willow trails up scum

. A gramophone relents, its melody the oars,

the river bends, the stones,

the fissures in the boat

. A hand trumpets

the mud, the underside of love,

the pleasures of the reeds,

the hubbub of the spawn.

Raol Izzard

About poetreecreations

I am an author writer publisher web administrator I run poetry workshops in the community. My published Manners childrens poetry book can be found at
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