Best Poem of R.L. Clark

Tidings
I've stopped reading the morning's news,
the blare of proclamations issuing forth
from Modor's tower in the Land of Shadows.
Sauron ponders our fates east of the
Great River, as his sycophantic minions
defile what was once a great land.
With each Trumpet's rattle I hear the
clop of hooves upon the earth . . .
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Anna
When not quite yet
a simple year old and
magic lit your eyes

I scooped you from
the kitchen floor, felt
rhythmic beats to mine

Gossamer hair
spun as silk, sweet cachet
of breath

Had alabaster ever felt
so soft? . . .
Read the full of Anna