Oh Sadness
Alas, t'would mean the words would weep
Alone in unconstructed phrase
Hanging fruit ne'er to be picked
Nor fall to seed again.
No swords succumb in verbal joust
To plow shares love of peace
No flower passed to maiden fair
To adorn the flax of wind blown hair.
No Mariners to tell their tale
Of thirsting decks sun bleached
No fully clothed, yet naked kings
No twisted word that laughs, yet stings.
As rainbows weep and shadows flee
Sweet words lay fallow in the fields
Pen-less poets hide from sight
Surrendering their shields.
1/22/2020
What if there were no poets
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2020
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