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Please don't write
any more poems about death.
I've read too many already,
and let's admit it,
they come too easily.
War. Grief. Sorrow. Loss: common
as poppies in spring
when it's still chilly outside,
the bright papery blooms
fading quickly.
Write the elusive
difficult poems
about love -
ones you know by heart
when words
fail;
A poem that stands on a riverbank
watching the flow—
a poem that surprises,
like a fish leaping out
from the turbulent darkness,
with all its might,
going upstream
with vigour and purpose,
and you know,
only because it moves
against the current,
it's alive.
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