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Lou Duro
Lou Duro (www.louduro.com), born in New York City, was destined to become a writer ever since receiving a toy printing press at the age of eight, which he used to write and publish the Bayside News, which he then hawked for five cents to surrounding neighbors. Following high school he enlisted in the military, and began his writing career in earnest, completing courses from The Naval School of Journalism and writing for several armed forces publications. After his discharge, he studied journalism and creative writing at New York University, while working as an editorial assistant for William Randolph Hearst's flagship newspaper, The New York Journal-American, learning his craft alongside such acclaimed journalists as Jimmy Breslin, Dorothy Kilgallen, and noted sports writer and broadcaster Stan Fischler. He soon became an award-winning reporter in his own right, receiving New York City's Best Spot News Story of the Year award in 1967. Lou currently resides on the Greek Island of Crete with his wife, Sofia. His fiction, poetry, magazine articles and news stories have appeared in numerous publications in the United States, Greece and Great Britain. His published works include the classic 1950s bio-fiction coming-of-age novel, Be Bop A Lula, as well as the perennial-selling free verse poetry book, the sadness of happy times.

Poems

The Sadness of Happy Times (excerpt)

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Latest Poem

In my Room long ago
I sat so merry in my abode
Loving hands around me
I dreamt of such glorious days
One day i would see

I remember the day I left
My room
I closed the door behind me
One quick look again
Then walked away
The room which would always remind me

The glorious days I had dreamt
I did merrily spent
How little did I then know
Life turns on a dime
My room is now not as it was
When I closed the door
Behind me

My room now is a prison
But not how one would invision
It is one of sorrow and grief
Sadness burns into the bare walls
I catch my breath
And weep

Why did thou'st doth betray?
The room which once embraced me
I ask with riddled heart
Jagged and torn
Which wicked riddles have I thus sought?

I sit still
I am now my room
No dreams as once before
I age before my open door

In my room long ago
I sat merrily in my loving abode
Loving hands did hold me
All gone

My room and myself
Now one
Two thrust to be together
Forever
Alone
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