Tag Archives: Pound of Flesh

With Contented Sigh

With Contented Sighby Michael DoyleNo matter how muchOf this world, Atlas carriesOn his tired old backIt’s the writer’s touchThat moves or buriesThe feelings we too often lackTurning it on, page after pageConveying the feelings we want to sayHinted at or … Continue reading

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Trying To Bottle Up

Trying To Bottle Upby Michael DoyleTrying to bottle up all the troubleStraight talking never ever doubleIs something that is next to impossibleSomething of which I know I’m incapableBut, I would do almost anything To keep you safe from all that … Continue reading

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