A Poet Is Dead
the stars cry rivers of light
as the moon bows his head
the planet pauses in prayer
a laureate is now dead
words of wisdom were let fly
from the heart of mind and soul
to the pages we now read
in our minds she will forever stroll
a life lived without any fear
as seen in poetry and prize
and the truth of each line
is still in earth, it will rise
from the wisping dust she rose
poverty was the cloak she wore
with the passing of the years
she shredded it off some more
a technicolour warrior for peace
with hope enough for the world
she scribed her name on eternity
in heavens arms she’s curled
so the stars will continue to cry
the moon still bows his head
these prayers will be ongoing
we grieve that a poet is dead
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