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Poem: ‘City of Doom’

May 5, 2010

By Kevin Hiatt

I met a gypsy woman by a lonely road,
on a pilgrimage to the temple of souls.

She showed me her wares,
prophesied from the runes
then she bade me to stay thru the afternoon.

Long about dusk her eyes turned to red,
as her holy chant beseeched the dead.

I thought it best to flee towards the moon,
down into the valley of the city of doom.

The guard at the gate restrained his lions,
and as I passed near them there was no denying,

that here was the source of all…………….grandeur!
Wisdom from the oracle, pure and sure.

In the musty market I laid my money down.
Tried a game of fortune with a trickster magician.
He took from me with every coin to my name.

I left that city a different man.
The omen had shown me the sacred plan.

A maid at the lake begged to come with me,
I told her nay, this was a private journey.

At a crest in the road I turned to look back.
The thieves they’d hung were turning into
new born doves.

The noon day sun revealed a translucent rainbow.
I felt renewed to once again be on my quest.

A soaring falcon called to my attention,
the need to sanctify the breath,
the need to purify the mind,
and to separate the self from all time.

About this guest author:

Kevin Hiatt, in addition to writing poetry is also a composer and guitarist/songwriter active in the local Kansas City music scene. More information about his work can be found at



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