If all inspiration
Acquired desire
No effort would ever
Amount to inspire...

Seeking some depth
The soul will conspire
Glaring down on death
Craving its empire.

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"A plethora of perspectives,
Crossing thoughts to be interpreted,
Pondering about them in a million different ways."

3D Artwork

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A Cinquain, Rendezvous by DL Mullan

Converge
Unite rejoin
Sneaking lovers elope
To secret moonlight meeting place
Huddle.

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The clearing of the deadwood

The giant slain
Torso of such heft and mass
The earth shook

There, the rotting core
Ash died back
Bleeding heart won no saviour

Not reprieve
Sliced like cheap cake or dead meat
And a new patch of sky looks down

Morn

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You were confounded
By scrivener’s scrawl
Assumptions founded
On what they call

The Doctor’s letter
That hides its gen
So you get better
And work again

For work is a curse
That drinkers decry
As they empty a purse
For the scrivener’s lie

Morn

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