Dead Poet Requiem

It finally dawned on me
That I am a poet
At exactly the point
The muse left,
At the very moment when
All the words,
Fevered and jangling,
Merged together
In one inert mass
Damning and jamming
Any hope of further creation.
This final scribble
Feels like a last gasp attempt
From dry, cracked fingers
And parched lips
To bid goodbye to whatever it was
I possessed.
Completely unknown and unacknowledged,
Smatterings of rhythm and rhyme
From a lifetime ago
Return to me in fragments
To taunt me:
‘This is what you could have been,
See how you wasted everything’.

Sue Hart

If you have any thoughts on this poem,  Sue Hart
would be pleased to hear them.