Fog is mysterious, wet and dark.
Fog blurs your view and makes you unsure of what's coming next.
Fog creates wishes of people from beyond coming back.
Fog feels wet against your face so that you can't tell whether you're crying or just moving forwards.
Fog chills you to the bone.
Fog holds your secrets with care.
By Lucy Grainger
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (fog by Lucy Grainger )
- Reverse, Galina Italyanskaya
- Another Four Line Poem, Deborah Eker
- Four Line Poem, Deborah Eker
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- Corruption, Sandra Feldman
- Cannot Take Care, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- The Beautiful Story of You, Corey Jones
- AA, Vera Sidhwa
- Hell is dumb and sore throats are stupid., Jena Crowe
- 100 Years of War, Robert Green
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
Walter de la Mare
(1873 - 1958)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)