Some thoughts on The Death Of A Poet.

Some Thoughts On The Deaths Of Poets. 

©-MFB III

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

inspiration fades
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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