Monday, September 24, 2018

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A Cruel Month

Sean Maguire with a poem from a published collection of his work.


Death loomed, in rustic space,
rustling leaves, whispered dead man
walking.
Scented flowers, sent his head
spinning,
one last soaking, in April showers.

There was no last-minute reprieve,
all signs of hope disappeared;
his body trembled with fear.

A mud-stained rope, tied feeble
hands,
seconds before the deadly plan;
was executed to the full.


➽Seán Maguire has been writing poetry, song lyrics, short stories and non-fiction for over thirty years and has had a considerable amount of his work published in magazines, newspapers, anthologies and online blogs. The above poem is taken from his collection For Those Left Behind.


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