When A Poet Dies

by

Phil Pochurek

When a poet dies
A flame goes out
That burned a different color than the rest.
A voice is gone
But their words linger on
Longer than mere mortals can attest.
When a poet dies
A note is missing
From the symphony of life.
Though their magic may be gone
Their spirit is passed on
Like a candle in the darkness burning bright.
When a poet dies
A rainbow goes home
And with it it’s pot of gold.
No new loving landscapes to be spoken
No new amazing graces to be told.
When a poet dies
In books and in memories lies
The heart of a spirit with a different view.
Who saw the world and shared their tears
With the rest of us, with me and you.
They brought us to their side of the mirror.
Their words we read go on to live
Written or spoken touch us all in different ways,
The words they shared were their token
Of what they had to give.
When a poet dies
An angel cries for those left behind
Who go on without them.
Then with tears of joy welcomes them home
From wherever their life had been
To echo what life was all about, and revel their joy to heaven.
Until another poet is born
To write it all down and sort it out
To carry the torch and cry out, and cry out,
When a poet dies.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at HORSE PLAY
by: Paul Curtis
from: Woking, England, UK

To visit all of Phil Pochurek's poems, click HERE

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