Not Poe

In the morning bright and and early, I awakened tired and surly
From a dream of surreal memories of a happier time before
While I nodded, almost dozing, around my heart I felt claws closing
As if some raptor was exposing half forgotten pain of yore
With bitter cruel manaiacal laughter from the trees outside my door
“Tis a kookaburra, nothing more”

Author: Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

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