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Donna's Poems
Tired of the Game

Tired of the game,
Think I'm lame.
What is right?
What is might?
Is the sky blue?
Or blue,  not true,
Parts of cerulean,
Bits of ochre,
Touch of umber,
Or forever amber.
Wonder about hushing,
Sunsets blushing.
Ethics of a race,
Gone, no trace.
Was Grandmother real?
For her the Bells  peal?
Was it all a dream?
Misty like rising steam?
Hearing words spoke,
Not even a joke.
Too true they sound,
Of peace all around,
Taught with psych 101,
Not even room for pun.
No work on the sabbath
You will find you're on a path
High up there on the moon,
Celt and Christian kissed soon.
Love your neighbor,
Sister, brother, mother.
Look through a circle,
Towards tribe full.
King of Siam said in vent,
"Tiz a puzzlement."

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