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Rated: E · Poetry · Romance/Love · #1431773
A humble first attempt at a ghazal (an ancient mid-eastern form)
         

         
            She - The One With The Accent


In prayer my heart would spin, a fiery wheel inside.
Now, truth cannot abide what I conceal inside.

What heartache it suggests, this wine press for my words.
If I partake can I invest the real inside?

The haunting in the human face is numinous,
A clue for us, that points to the ideal inside.

For twenty years and more this mettle stood untried.
It's molten now. What all does this reveal inside?

The victim stands convicted! The evidence is clear.
Summon him; I appear. There is no appeal inside.

I miss that stalwart clown; he's an old friend of mine.
When he's in town, Oh! How the laughter peals inside.

Old Juniperus Pineceae digs in his roots.
God's grace, good soil, and time will help him heal inside.

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