Chris Mansell image
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Poems by Chris Mansell

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dust

... at the time about to pick up my pen ...

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the good soldier

... and this doesn't say it at allhe walks with his weapon through the town ...

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Nature

... arrived so proud to be here, and busy, the plovers should have keys and a whistle on a lanyard each ...

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Where edges are

... the clenched hills shrieked and sharp with danger ...

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The unquiet city

... are unimportant God does not come here often ...

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the beekeeper

... for dissident and obedient alikethose who gather in the courtyards ...