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Land of Nod
 
Forced from the face of the earth
to the wanderer's wend, Land of Nod.
Hid from the countenance of God
never home, never hearth.

Fugitive and vagabond in the earth
never to reap what he sows
no seed that he plants ever grows
and he's lonely 'til death.

Maybe the dark side of the moon
and maybe the cursed never dies
or maybe the legend is lies
and he's dust, and he's gone.

Forced from the face of the earth
forced both to wander and live
and who can forget, can forgive
brother's slayer, the first.

By tony parsons

© 2016 tony parsons (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Anything Goes Challenge with cherrykc (Cherry) read page for rules and info (challenge has been closed)


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