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From the Dug Out to Fame

Lonesome, under a smelly bridge,
I sit and gaze at the hungry sparrows...
My pen regurgitates words on a blank page,
Sounding like the creaking sound of a finger on a wall.
My pockets, empty' no jingling silver and gold,
Except a few poems, waiting to fly to the vast universe.
I am poor, in this evil world,
No food, no drinks'no shelter and money,
But have an ocean full of words,
Ready to light up the old Milky Way.
I, a beggar, to bloom into fame,
And die as a great poet,
Inscribing my name in people's hearts.

13-Feb-2005

More By  :  Tri Tran

Views: 1390     Comments: 0


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