The day poetry died

 

This is the day that poetry died…

Verses exhaled their final breath

on a noisy highway leading nowhere

Litter strewn curbs collect the remnants

of the few lines that were left in my head

and I wave as I pass, fighting the tears

I know do not matter

 

Broken ball points leaking non rhyming ink

fill the pocket of my new white shirt

leaving behind permanent stains of what I used to be

Darkened blots in unrecognizable shapes

you wouldn’t guess if lying on a couch

calling every one of your dreams a lie

in stoic echoes of delusional voices

 

Stanzas stacked in casket formation,

less the satin centers and comfort

promised for eternity, fall like weakened

dominoes at the slightest creative thought

crashing into a pile of illegible splintered nonsense

Yes, this is the day that poetry died

and sadly it has taken me with it…

Reviews

[R Smith]

I really doubt that Will, poetry lives in you :)

[willweb]

Thanks so very much my friend.

[Rene Salinas]

Oh my Will this right here spoke to me in ways that I can only show in terms of meaning it reminded me of this dialogue "In this verse, life is antagonistic to the natural state. Here humans in all their various races are a spontaneous outbreak. An unguided mistake. Our purpose is to correct that mistake... because there is another verse. A verse where life is welcomed and cherished"

When your actions no longer represent meaning, when you have become a drone and all you do is superimpose images onto your life. Like an automaton or a drone the day that poetry died.

Great writing this one.

Thank You

[willweb]

There are many reasons poetry can die within a person, where they once found inspiration now they find darkness. It can be something as simple as a non returned smile or something as drastic as being accused of being someone you are not. The best thing about being a poet is...you never have to be perfect and you really never have to please anyone but yourself. Sure, we like when other's enjoy our work, but that is not the end game. Poetry lives through love, caring and forgivness because it is no secret, we poets make many mistakes. I, like many others here seem to look for the good in people and sometimes don't find the bad until it is way too late and that causes an internal sadness, but often that sadness becomes an inspiration and once again poetry lives.

Thank you for your comments on my poem.

[MomzillaNC]

Such a woebegone write. Made me feel a bit emotional. It reads almost like a suicide note or an obituary. I hope it's only a bit of writer's block. But, the day the poetry died? Seems more like metempsychosis or reawakening.

[willweb]

I'm not sure what it is, but it suddenly started breathing again. All I did was whisper, if you die you'll never get that kiss. It worked. Thanks so much Momz.

[MomzillaNC]

You're hugely welcome! Can't wait to read that kiss!

[Matching Socks]

Now this is a sad sad poem indeed, and if poetry has died then I am truly at a loss for words.
For there would be no words poetic enough to describe the beauty and sadness held within the heart of this poem. (Ha, that sounded kinda poetic, perhaps it's not dead afterall, just napping)

[willweb]

Can you keep it down Ana, I'm trying to sleep here? Thanks my sweet friend. You know, there are a lot things, people, situations that make it feel as if the poetry I contribute here is slowly dying. Thankfully I have friends like you, that I have known for so very long, have learned to trust and more than anything truly appreciate, who make it come back to life again.

[Cool Girl]

?Will, are you trying to make me cry? Very touching piece, my friend.

[willweb]

No crying my friend...only smiles allowed here. Thanks so much.

[Cool Girl]

Haha, thanks!

[Ruth]

Ohhhh good lord...what or who are we, if we can not be the Poet we have become...shrill in tone...superb love xo

[willweb]

Thanks so very much Poppy.

[Frieda P]

So sad, but brilliantly executed in its release, no pun intended, bite your tongue on all counts Will! 'Splintered nonsense', been there.... I have non rhyming ink in my pen it seems, it ain't so bad, smile. :)

[willweb]

Thanks so very much Frieda. I am jazzed you enjoyed this one.

[Cryingkate]

LMAO WillWeb

Leave it to you to "Take it to the limit" with the " "Day the Music/Poetry Died"

Soooo Dramatic......... Love it. But you do not lie very well. I bet your self writer pen will still be flowing Ethereal ink long after your body rots in the ground.

HA ! You can't stop writing no matter what you do think or say. You are doomed to live in the eternal hall of words.
Don your Armor my friend if you dare try to escape, for you will need it!
Yet I bet your sword will be of no use. It shall turn on you and write yourself in and out of the eternal Battle of "NO USE".
Better except your fate then to die a shameful defeat.
Your imprisoned to writing Forever My Friend.

:-) How's that Sir Knight Willweb?
There told off by a Maiden ... ha ha ha

[willweb]

What, no parole? What kind of place is this? I demand to see the warden! Thanks so much Cryingkate. I appreciate your kind review.

[Cryingkate]

LMBO ............... I talked to the Warden on your behalf.

He told me to tell you this: WRITE ! WRITE ! WRITE

[The Black Warrior]

WOUH Will, this is horrifying... I don't know what we will do without poetry and you!!

I like the flow of this poem Will... I find to be very different, I love your choice of words :D
I have no words to say...um this is very different LOL I already said that....

[willweb]

Thank you so very much my friend. I appreciate you.

[The Black Warrior]

You are very welcome :D sorry for the delay :D