Poetry is Dead
Poetry is Dead1 min 197 1 min 197
I read on the internet
that poetry is dead —
it is hard to bounce back from that!
My passion does not feel dead,
my fingers still move
my mind is relentless, still —
words and voices, metaphors, ideas upon ideas, attempts upon attempts,
but yet, here they say, they said, are saying, we are dead, I am dead -
it is dead.
If so, this just might be poet heaven
we flutter our wings and our eyelashes we rise up and up and up
and offer you little tablets, tiny things,
scrawled out, written with feathers, written in clouds
that lift, and lift, and lift you all up here
dead and gone
with us poets in poetry heaven.