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Literature Text
Shaol's Admirer
"I've heard naught but scraps and mites of,
this might full tale of rebirth and mole of orts.
The Lazarus that our man may be, strewn a mors by shove.
Regret may he, remorse did we, to read his cross to ports.
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But on my eye did gleen a sheen, of dark but not abrading amaze,
for by its hand it led me through a maze of dread and gasp,
upon of which I marched in mirth, a beaten road of days
stepped down by a slave to fate, a hook, a pin, and clasp.
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The Ancient Mariner, dresses his own fate,
and by what a fate awaits his lay, laying him to sooth.
Forsooth, a man abused and wicked was he before too late,
but on his rest he came to breath, sorry, cross his teeth.
Over his tongue and under his tooth.
To garden more his heath."
-Jesse Frodelius
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I wrote this as a response poem to when I read "The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner."
It was such a good one, that I couldn't express how good it was without writing this.
It was such a good one, that I couldn't express how good it was without writing this.
Comments1
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I wish I could come up with something this good whenever I'm inspired by great writing. You did an awesome job here.