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P&C Poetry
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Cards (56)
that's my
last duchess painted
on the
wall
MLD
notice
neptune taming
a
seahorse
though in all
rarity
MLD
i gave
commands
then all
smiles
stopped all
together
MLD
king of kings
/
look on my works
ye
mighty
and
despair
Ozymandias
boundless
and
bare
the
lone
and
level sands
stretch
far away
Ozymandias
sneer
of
cold command
Ozymandias
a
shattered visage
lies
Ozymandias
in
every cry
of
every man
, in every
infant's cry
of
fear
, in every
voice
, in every
ban
London
in
every voice
, in every
ban
, the
mind-forged manacles
i hear
London
marks
of
weakness
,
marks
of
woe
London
every
blackening church
appalls
London
runs
in
blood
down
palace walls
London
a
little boat
tied to a
willow tree
The Prelude
a
huge
peak,
black
and
huge
The Prelude
the horizon's
ultmost boundary
;
far
above was
nothing
but the
stars
and the
grey
sky
The Prelude
there
hung
a
darkness
, call it
solitude
or
blank desertion
The Prelude
cannon
to the
right
of them,
cannon
to the
left
of them,
cannon
in
front
of them
Charge
of the
light brigade
honour
the
light brigade
, the
noble six hundred
Charge
of the
light brigade
into the
jaws
of
death
, into the
mouth
of
hell
Charge
of the
light brigade
our brains
ache
, in the
merciless iced east winds
that
knife
us
Exposure
sudden
successive
flights
of
bullets
streak
the
silence
Exposure
all
their
eyes
are
ice
Exposure
but
nothing
happens
Exposure
sink walls
in
rock
and
roof
them with
good slate
Storm
on the
Island
spits
like a
tame cat
turned
savage
Storm
on the
Island
space
is a
salvo
/ we are
bombarded
by the
empty air
Storm
on the
Island
strange
it is a
huge nothing
that we
fear
Storm
on the
Island
suddenly
he
awoke
and was
running raw
Bayonet Charge
king
,
honour
,
human dignity
,
etcetera- dropped
like
luxuries
Bayonet Charge
probably armed
possibly not
Remains
his
blood-shadow
stays on the
street
Remains
and the
drink
and the
drugs
won't
flush
him
out
Remains
not left for
dead
in some
distant
,
sun-sunned
,
sand-smothered land
/ or
six-feet-under
in
desert sand
Remains
his
bloody
life in my
bloody
hands
Remains
in his
darkroom
he is
finally alone
War Photographer
spools
of
suffering
set out in
ordered rows
War Photographer
running
children
in
nightmare heat
War Photographer
a
half-formed ghost
War Photographer
a
hundred agonies
in
black
and
white
War Photographer
what was
paid
by
credit card
might
fly
our
lives
like
paper kites
Tissue
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