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Book 35 Page 26


The old poet


The old poet’s lines didn’t ring bells,

the scans didn’t jell

and you could tell,

he had lost his old spark.


He had lost his ‘poetry pain,’

he no longer writes boldly and plain,

And again I say;

he does not seem himself ‘moved.’


He was once a master of rhyme,

of speech metered in time,

but all is not fine,

for there is no soul in his words anymore.


For he no longer speaks his mind clear.

He speaks only what others ‘want to hear.’

And I fear,

the old poet

has become;



© Written by Dominic John Gill Jan 26 2002