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 Category:  Commentary and Philosophy Poetry
  Posted: February 6, 2020      Views: 142

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"Like every book I never wrote, it is by far the best book I've ever written."

G. K. Chesterton

He is a top ranked author at the #20 position.

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This work has reached the exceptional level
exploring the collateral damage
"Sequelae" by Mark Valentine

Julie is a pretty girl, and on the honor roll,
But all can see, quite easily, there’s sadness in her soul.
Her shoulders droop. The clothes she wears are slightly out of style.
And none of Julie’s classmates can recall seeing her smile.
She has no friends, she seldom speaks, goes home right after school.
She doesn’t care if people stare, or think she is uncool.
Some think she's just introverted, some think she’s insane,
And someone heard her dad had put a bullet through his brain.
Once home, she eats her dinner, then she heads up to her room,
Attending to her homework, fending off the gathering gloom.
She pores through U.S. History, dives into AP Chem.
But ghosts keep pounding at her door - there’s no denying them.
She tries to cling to memories when life was still intact,
Unsullied by the fallout from her father’s final act.
Before her world was shattered by his self-inflicted slaughter,
Before the light went out of life for Richard Cory’s daughter.


Poem of the Month contest entry


Author Notes
A poem imaging the aftermath of Edward Arlington Robinson's poem, "Richard Cory". Here's the original:

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich�¢??yes, richer than a king�¢??
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
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