The Death Of The Poet Poem by Shirley Harrison

As I ponder over the world today

with all its material rubbish
and crap that none of us need

children deep within their cell phones watching themselves on Instagram

whilst necks bent down on the dining table
at the posh restaurant
they don't even care to be

unknown to them
their own parents also filming and taking photos
for their own pride and joy
publishing it all online

I cannot help but think to myself...

if we could sit down on a gamers chair
playing video games of war and of violence
then
surely we could also
sit down to educate ourselves on the more beautiful things
like art, history and nature?

I cannot help but wonder

if we could turn the clock back
or even forward
to the beauty that once was and of that
in which could be

would this world be any different
than it is today?

and what would really become of the Poet?