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A Tree Unfruitful
by Brenda Johnson
05/26/03
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Sometime between sundown and midnight
Somewhere between darkness and light
Demons come to my bed, taunting
It is time for my haunting
Their words are sharp, quick pointing
Guilty Of promises made and broken
Of messages entrusted to you, unspoken
Guilty they loudly proclaim
Of selfishness, not enough caring
Of laziness, not enough daring
And guilty you remain
In the wrong place, yet you stay
have all you need, and are not brave
These demons of mine are cruel and unkind
Even worse, so brutally truthful
As they tell of me, a tree, as yet unfruitful
















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Member Comments
Member Date
Rosalind Morris 28 May 2003
I like this poem, but something about this part: You know well we are not from hell and they spread their angel wings confuses me. I understand that you are no longer talking about yourself but to your reader. Still, I don't get that sentence. Is it the demons that spread their angel wings? Well anyway I like the overall poem. Thank you for posting your work. I would like to read more of it in the future. God Bless :)




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