Best Poem of S.A. Blair

A Whisper Of Winter
There's a murmur in the trees
You can hear it whispered low
that summer's on its knees
and all the flowers know
that the season took the bees
and the grass it will not grow
and the waves sit on the seas
as the wind begins to blow
no longer just a breeze
see the branches to-and-fro
all the . . .
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A Politician To A Historian Of The Heart
What am I playing at? will I never learn?
Am I deluded, mad or just selfish to the bone?
I’m playing Russian roulette with a machine-gun
A physicist dealing with factors unknown

Who am I really? Where can I go?
In force nine waters with no compass or chart
Walking on glass with no shoes on my feet
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