Some thoughts on The Death Of A Poet.
Some Thoughts On The Deaths Of Poets.
Do not regret their final passage
in the closing eulogy of their lives.
They have passed into
the murky blackness
of God's massive inkwell,
where the essence of
all poets are placed,
when that spark of
in that last exhale of awe.
Soon God will recreate them,
into heavenly poems
scrawled across the books of life,
and they will be read back into existence
much to the awe of millions of listeners
in the star lit cafe of paradise.
All of those who have passed on,
will welcome such readings,
and each poet deceased
will become one of the many
spirits of poetry,
whose souls soar higher
then any earthbound
inspiration would allow.
Just think of the endless subjects
they can cover with those
who have gone on before them.
Some Tea with Elizabeth Browning,
a sundae with Robert Frost,
a five mile walk with Longfellow.
The possibilites are endless
and they will be happy there.
They have poked a pencil hole
in the blackness of space,
they are unpenned from the flesh
and have left their bright marks
just east of Polaris,
where their starlite
will remain as
a beacon to all others
who wish to shine
just as brightly as
they will forevermore.
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