Talent Tallow Tally Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

When underneath the eaves poor poets wrote,
or artists sought to represent their dreams,
with wax for candles scarce, with scarce a groat,
while wood and coal too costly were, it seems
most inspiration 'penny lined' in haste
by hand cold-cramped too often went to waste.

What talent tallow's tally still remains,
where marble monuments rare pains portray?
What name, rich fame, whose reign's not washed away
by present tides past presents swift disdain?
What's hacked by history, once sent, untraced,
short sh[r]ift_ink scrawl shawl walled on billboard paste?

We flicker second thoughts until life's page
attention turns to fresher fad engage.