Poem to End All Poetry
Detach and return top portion with your payment,
on this sad day. And you might let the gate
swing shut for the last time. There is no call
to weep, to cry out; what a person does
in their spare time is their affair. Remove
protective wrapping. As the sun of morning
becomes the sun of evening, you may find
time heavy on your hands. This is because
there is no poetry. What you believe
and I believe are two things; they are not
compatible, and all the time you take
to tell me how you feel is wasted. I
canít read your poetry. That ship has sailed.
John Isbell

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  John Isbell   would be pleased to hear them