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The Final Draught- A Poem By Matt Flumerfelt

In madness o'er the waning hour that heaven vastly portends, obscured by clouds that ominous lour before the storm its force expends,   I drain the bitter cup of...
winter

Winter – A Poem by Matt Flumerfelt

Winter, mad as a March Hare, was finally making its departure. The frenzied snows of yesteryear had gone, no one knew where.   Winter's bite was bitter. The Cold War...