POETRY IS DEAD
Originally uploaded by firoze shakir photographerno1
She could have hung herself from the fan
She could have thrown herself in the River Thames
But she chose to cut herself with a rusty old
Wilkinson Blade they said
Her wrists pouring lava crimson red
Like a running stream she bled
Her cheeks flushed her eyes
Ponds tears
Of aquamarine instead
Yes poetry had killed herself
Poetry in the land of the English Poets
Lay dead
A requiem
An English poet
Had killed English poetry
And into the darkness had fled
Michael Shepherd, David Hazell
TMcH Howlin Dervish
A handful of good English poets
Teary eyed with bowed head
Gathered around her body
Lying motionless at the morgue
No next of kith or kin
Just the marble platform
Serving as her stony bed
Poetry silent among the living Dead
Love poetry Hate racism
