POETRY IS DEAD

POETRY IS DEAD

This is my last poem, for poetry is dead,

My gratitude goes out to all who have read,

The lyrics in my mind I tried to convey,

But for me the romanticism of poetry has lost its way,

It was therapy, it was fiction, it was also true,

I wrote for more than myself, I wrote for you,

Poetry of love has been killed,

By murderous hands craftily skilled,

Don’t blame me for my poetry’s death,

The fault is in the hands of those inept,

For them it was all too absurd,

Their maladroit ways of taking each word,

Each word that bled from this heart,

So with a tactful touch tonight poetry and I do part,

I’ve been broken and bruised,

Never loved, only used,

Only an outcry for my words can save it now,

For my poetry is dying in my head tonight somehow,

Again my gratitude goes out to all who have read,

But this is my last poem, for poetry is dead.

-brad