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Friendless you toiled with palette and brush,

Forlorn amidst wheat fields with only mad rush

Of flying crows to mark the day,

Crossed paths unite yet yield no safe way,

Fulfillment pursued beneath sorrowful skies

Painting with troubled soul that once cries

Out for love yet finds only torment,

Thus your life spent.

Tramping through fields of cypress and corn

With stars and suns swirled in a morn,

Hatband-held candles yield flickering light

                                                 Sustaining your soul one last starry night,                                                                

Rooks swirled in violet a soul hungers still,

Standing alone – the wheat field revealed.

Walt Trizna

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

2 responses

  1. You have at least one friend.

    Stop eating the seeds of the field that other crows are eating
    search the world for another kind of meeting
    Because it wears the crow down, heavy, unable to fly
    so the crow sighs, wondering why

    Begin like a falcon to fly high in the sky
    stop eating the consumerist lie
    Empty your belly of shit
    then meditate deeply just for a bit


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