A Song Poem by Learnmore Edwin Zvada

I wrote a song today
A song of color grey, dull and sad
An irregular composition, such as from a drunken minstrel's pipe organ
It didn't tell of the starry night or a cloudy form
It was devoid of the sweet smell of roses on my portico
So heartless was the song
It went on and on about suffering and hurt
It was clad as a loser without purpose and worth

I wrote a song today
It wasn't a song about love and her immoral cousin lust
Or was it a sheaf on how my feelings have been toyed with
By those beefy maidens from downtown
It lacked ceremony and solemnness
Or the sublime flow of words that rhyme with emotion

Today I wrote a song
Too desperate to be heard and worshiped
Its verses spilt out of me in one breathe
But the song breathed not as new born songs ought to
It lay dead and lifeless like a bag of rotten eggs

So I rubbed off the song from my book of songs
Tore up the page and set it ablaze on the dying candle fire
It wept bitterly into flame and smoke
My own song choked me to tears
Reason why I wrote this piece to keep her memory
Lest her ghost comes back to hound me