The Lark
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The Lark


Blank verse — modified

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forsaken, alone, my vandalized wraith
immolated on a pyre of black bile
ignited by Aeolus's oily breath

grizzled by relentless linear time
a belated ken of banal essence
a seawolf not, rather a vapid soul

by ceaselessly fending off the raven
a dissipated gift of consciousness




The Lark shares fictional short stories and poetry

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Stephen Chamberlin

Stephen Chamberlin

Oldish guy, trying his hand at something new. Retired Coast Guard Officer. Now self-employed in the wine and spirits industry.

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