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Sometimes I wonder about English. Is it dying out in it’s ‘proper’ form?
In the future, will you see poems like this?

Out of us all
That make rhymes
Will u choose
Sumtimes –
As the winds use
A crack in a wall
Or a drain,
Their joy or their pain
To whistle thru –
Choose me,
U English words?

I kno u:
U r light as dreams,
Tough as oak,
Precious as gold,
As poppies and corn,
Or an old cloak:
Sweet as r birds
To the ear,
As the burnet rose
In the heat
Of Midsummer:
Strange as the races
Of dead and unborn:
Strange and sweet
And familiar,
To the i,
As the dearest faces
That a man knows,
And as lost homes r:
But tho older far
Than oldest yew, –
As our hills are, old, –
Worn new
Again and again:
Young as r streams
After rain:
And as dear
As the earth which u prove
That we luv.

Make me content
With some sweetness
From Wales
Whose nightingales
Have no wings, –
From Wiltshire and Kent
And Herefordshire, –
And the villages there, –
From the names, and the things
No less.
Let me sometimes dance
With u,
Or climb
Or stand perchance
In ecstasy,
Fixed and free
In a rhyme,
As poets do.

Okay that was an awful example as I couldn’t actually change many words, but the choice of poem in the case of it’s content was appropriate, so 😛

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