Illusion
In the forest of a star,
Formed by the edge of the sky,
The points and bays of an azurean sea
Crossed by imaginary lines
Between the peaks of the pines.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Poetmother 4 Backs the Cold
During cold is when I'm potent,
the sap comes
back
to me.
Then as the warmth comes
back,
the sap goes
back
to leaves and scents,
and I am back
impotent.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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M: III: Poetemere 4 Retournes le Froid
Pendant froid,
j'ai la puissance;
la seve retourne
en moi.
Puis, ou le chaud retourne,
la seve retourne
en feuilles et fleurs,
et je retourne
en impuissance.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Rock Song
Hands hard drawn from rock
Given sound of birds,
Words drawn from sound of birds,
Start a thought of promise-
what'll be
'll be what was...
what what was'll be
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Flu Theory of Failure
In the Olympic year of twenty twelve
Flu took gold in Australia.
With gold on the chest of the flu
Silver was the best we could do-
So silver is gold, not a failure
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Rap
early morn
the poet rises.
Words at night
that had no rap
reveal at dawn
surprises.
Melody returns.
Dimmed by days advance,
song returns to morning,
words begin to dance.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Disgust
You grew into a lie.
Dressed it up, added tie,
Hurt those who didn't do the same.
Yes, you did what you were told,
But nothing was too cold.
You added shames to your shame.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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B: VIIII: Great Question
There is no detectable sign of love
In man afraid of dying.
He's lost all love's design.
Or is it, increased signs of love
Have made him fear the dying,
And that is love's design?
poem by Douglas Scotney
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He Understands Him Well. & v.v.
The lord he's found of no matter.
To the lord he don't mean two hoots.
With both out of time together,
They'll have more in common than ever;
But call it cahoots?
No way. Never.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Gather.................................................................... Cow
..............gather father
bother mother
alive relive
siege sieve
could mould rough dough
few sew
cough borough bough
crow cow.............................................. ..
poem by Douglas Scotney
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