Chains

Penny lane of pumpernickle, a pocket full of rye
Pint of hand and taint of heart
But where to begin and how to start

Too high to fly to touch the sky
To question once and wonder why
why has thou come and where do you run
Beneath the light of yonder sun

Twice the speckled flight of doves has passed
Some mistakes we've made and some will last
But we are chains linked within the past

solumn words of mystic voices
Leading lives by other choices
Other means or so it seems
The heavy hand the heart can mend
For we are witness to this burdened land

| Poetry 1 | Poetry 2 | Poetry 3 | Poetry 4 |

| Poetry 5 | Poetry 6 | Poetry 7 | Poetry 8 |

| Poetry 9 | Poetry 10 | Poetry 11 | Poetry 12 |

| Poetry 13 |

Copyright © Darryn John Murphy