THE MUTINY OF THE DEAD by Adeosun Pelumi

The wilted branch of the willow tree Drooped, touching her headstone with its tender fingers, The browning grasses and the primroses stood like A thousand soldiers, ever watchful and protective of her realm, They were her friends and her only companions The muffled silence and the mournful wails of the...

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TEARS FOR THE DEAD

My face is wet and I know not yet whether it is rain or tears My heart beats with spasmodic feats.Is it anticipation or fears? I see through the blur of an eye drowned in color, lifeless, the fingers that led me through the years. O reaper, blind did you...

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