by Sandra S Corona
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Recent poems by Sandra S Corona
He, Then, Read Me
Farkle Was His Name ... Oh
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Thunder roared, slapped falling rain
cleansing it of every sin, stain.
Lightning sliced sky’s curtain, domain,
with zig-zags. The dire intrusion
did not lack pain.
Crystal clear wounds
bleed upon plains.
Up from the abyssal, red flames
from earthly bowels raw, enraged,
spewing hellish coals, rearranged
earths zig-zags with dire conclusions …
not lacking pain.
scorches down, rains.
Her cap soared off, the mountain blew,
cremating more than more things do.
Natures’ womb is birthing anew,
bursts, zig-zags. There’s much confusion …
the world insane.
Crystal clear change
lifted a new range.
She cried at her hearts content, sobbed,
and the new matter, muddy, flushed
into the valley screamed, then hushed.
But zig-zags continued to saw
crusts, rugged, plain.
We can’t control