Spells Of Doom

Poem By Paul Beare

Thank you would not be enough unless I said it softly to the Lord.
For the woman that I came upon saved me from my doomed vision of a solitary man.
A vision that made me feel like a beetle hiding under a cold rock near death.
I was unable to see the light.
I tried to plan my next move for my life, but the hand of time felt like a slow death.
Gradually the lovely day with a girl in the sun was fading out.
Then as time breaks all spells of doom, my enemy had finally fled.
I crept out into the bright warm sun.
My aching arms were up like wings to the sky as down by the old oak tree stood the angel of a woman who would set the lonely spell of doom free.
The grass under my feet felt so soft now as my angel of a woman and I go walking into the valley of love.

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Upon The Gardens Of Heaven

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Broken bottles of whiskey are shattered all around you and make me only wish that a wrong move would cut you blood cold.
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