The Death of a Poet

I read my obituary Accolades run afoul to lighten the souls of the living Trite clichés, forgotten kin, melodic tributes Boring and meaningless Upon a granite stone etched for an eternity I was but a ‘A faithful husband,’ ‘A good father,’ And ‘Never Forgotten’ They have it all wrong If they had read my sonnets Mystical offspring scribbled on napkins Consuming stale coffee in late night diners lit by neon lights They would have known Had they paid heed to my limericks Nonsensical rhymes of fairytale fantasies And polka-dotted panties created to amuse only me They would have known Had they inhaled my free verse Painstaking hours spent Creating worlds of exquisite harmony Carrying the reader on endless voyages Guided by the inspired lyricist through emerald forests Royal seas, white-capped mountains And never-ending dreams They would have known Had they met my only mistress One called Haiku A quiet damsel Her beauty lies in brevity and endless seasons They would have known More than a husband More than a father More than forgotten I am a poet I read my obituary I should have known