Consoled Are The Accursed Poem by james watkin

Consoled Are The Accursed



Consoled are the accursed
In a thunderous rain.
Congenial tis, giving
Voice to their pain.

Roar by roar a mimic
Of soothing is the sea.
Tis refreshment itself.
Oh inexplicably!

Monday, July 8, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: noise,peace
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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