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Both of my parents were gifted poets, but because both lived lives of sacrificial love for each other and their children, they did not have the time to pursue their own desires.
A poem my mother wrote about the funeral of President John F Kennedy:
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MUFFLED CADENCE
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The sound of shot.
The roar of gun.
Thy will be done
blares the drum.
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The sudden shock.
The news farflung.
Thy will be done
beats the drum.
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The hour of grief.
The darkened sun.
Thy will be done
rolls the drum.
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The sound of shot.
The grave begun.
Thy will be done
mourns the drum.
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-Nellie S Bertsch-
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(It was not for a while after I read the poem that I realized the poem itself was
the sound of a drum with its 4 syllable lines, every 2nd syllable accented.)
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