Poem -

in the cold

in the cold

spy who stayed
out in the cold
drew a code
on the window

poet who
lost his
hands
whispered
ink
into
a
deaf man's
ear

Ā a blind artist
paints
a portrait
of a place
that heĀ 
has no ability
to see

asseverations
are
created
to remanufacture
intentions
that were
never
there

A paraplegic
dances
in his
mind
to a beat
his feet
will never
feel
asĀ 
the mute
pretendsĀ 
to beĀ 
Pavoratti
crooning
to
the cries
of
"encore!"

What is impossible
is non existence
to
determination

As our will
overrides
limitation
Ā 

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Comments

author
Terry Reeves

Hi GregĀ 
Well thought out.
Regards,
Terry.

Reply
author
Being Me

This is fabulous work GregĀ  sorry I'd not noticed it before now. This is superbly done xx

Reply
author
linda lank

Hi Greg, that's one awesome poem you wrote Linda have a MerryĀ  Christmas.

Reply
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