After The Poet's Death Poem by Daniel Brick

After The Poet's Death

Rating: 4.9

His poems refuse
to mourn his passing, they
detach themselves from
books, magazines, wall hangings
and float freely
in the fair summer air.

Their refusal to mourn is
steadfast. 'He's just changed
his address, ' one of his
first poems says to the new
lyrics. 'He's done this before,
searching for a better place to live.'

'And we always go with him, '
pipes a small poem, barely
audible, maybe not
completed, hardly a poem
at all. 'We are all of us
pieces of his soul, ' booms

the lordly Epic Poem
of 24 cantos. 'We must
catch up with him, restore
his soul to wholeness, then
together, all of our words
linked, all of our sentences

looped around each other,
we will be the ONE POEM
he always claimed
to be writing.' Murmurs
of approval for Epic's speech
crescendoed over the meadow,

into a harmony of voices that
was almost musical. 'Excuse me,
oh, pardon me.' From way in back
where the sequence poems
had clustered, Sonnet XIV
was coming forward. He

squeezed through a group
of illustrated narrative poems,
and eased himself past
the pastoral poems, reclining
on the yellow-green lawn.
Lacking the familiar support

of sonnets XIII and XV,
XIV was unsure of himself.
Epic graciously steadied him,
and introduced him to the assembly,
'Dear friends, ' he began softly,
'we sonnets were with him for hours

yesterday. He was reading
us to his three children. It was
the happiest afternoon! He read
sonnets by the two Rossetti's, brother
and sister, his favorites. Then,
just as the sun dipped and lights came on,

something happened. He suddenly
collapsed.' XIV breathed deeply.
'We watched as two of his childen
covered his face with a blanket.'
For a long moment, it was
just the green air of summer.

Then an immense cry
sliced the greenness, and it bled
grief over all the poems.
The Elegies, whose gray eyes
had held little hope, were
comforted by a volume of

haiku. Pairs of Love Poems
embraced fiercely to crush
grief before it could
propagate. Drinking Songs from
the Chinese laughed harshly and
poured more wine. Wisdom Poems

fell into stunned silence. The other
sonnets joined XIV and they all
bowed their heads. A straggle of
Free Versers assembled, reciting
They sheltered the small poem, confused, bereft.

It was dusk but no shadows
obscured the outlines of trees,
bushes and flower patches. The sun
had withdrawn, but left behind was
a spiritual glow, suffusing all
with yellow-gold, an unasked for grace

welcomed nonetheless for beauty's sake.
A procession had quietly formed
on the furthest margin of the meadow.
Prose Poems, from his last published
work, carried and pushed a huge
covered arch. They were silent,

except for a choral hum, which other
poems joined as it gathered them
into the procession, making it more
spacious and resonant. A smiling Epic
and the sonnets understood suddenly
what was happening, and joined

the Prose Poems, who welcomed them.
Together, they braced the arch
and removed the cover. Cheering
resounded across the meadow. Then,
in perfect silence, the poems
crossed the threshold, and entered

the open arch. Sonnet XIV paused.
'You see, he is not dead. He
lives in all of us. We are his
life eternal.' Then he too
disappeared within, as did
every poem, quietly entering -


Thursday, August 7, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: Poetry
M Asim Nehal 26 June 2016

A great honor for all the poets, your poem elevated the status of the poets in the eyes of the world, the work, they leave behind them speaks about the world they lived in and thought about. It also demonstrates the emotional dealings of the subject. Another thought provoking poem..10+++

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M Asim Nehal 17 March 2019

The only legacy a poet will leave behind him will be his poems, Poems filled with thoughts and emotions...A wonderful poem my friend Mr. Daniel Brick..10+++++++

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Susan Williams 05 March 2016

This is pure undiluted DELIGHT! I didn't make it through the first stanza before my heart smiled and my spirits rose to join your poems in the fair summer air [I love inner rhymes like that].And it was wonderful to meet all the characters from the lordly EPIC POEM to the grey-eyed ELEGIES to the laughing DRINKING SONGS.. May we all have poems that live after us. Excellent, Mr. Brick, excellent.

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Nosheen Irfan 01 March 2016

A poet lives in his poetry. His physical departure from the world need not be mourned for his spirit will live on in his poetry. The relationship between a poet n his poems is an eternal one. It's such a beautiful poem that it deserves many reads. A work of rich imagination. A well-crafted poem with layers of meanings.

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Daniel Brick 01 March 2016

Thank you, Nosheen, for your appreciation of my poem in the context of Poetry Itself. I enjoyed writing this poem, it almost wrote itself. However, it was inspired by belonging to the community of poets that make up POEMHUNTER. Isn't it wonderful to be a part of such a visionary company? !

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Bharati Nayak 07 July 2023

A profound poem that speaks Daniel Brick's depth of knowledge in literature and his love for poetry.His soul really dwells in his poems and will always shine.

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Bharati Nayak 07 July 2023

'You see, he is not dead. He lives in all of us. We are his life eternal.' Then he too disappeared within, as did every poem, quietly entering - THE COLLECTED POEMS OF - - - Daniel Brick

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Kevin Patrick 23 June 2023

Daniel was one of the best poets who contributed to this site and its still sad that his pen will never breathe new light as he is. Reading this again after so long it moves me to near tears, but the only consolation is that his life still lives here. RIP.

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Made a revisit today. Whatever the poet wrote here applies to his poems best. Although he left us about two years back, he lives among us through his immortal indelible poems

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Susan Williams 24 January 2023

We lost a beautiful man and an utterly outstanding poet---it is as if he wrote this poem to himself for us to read after he had gone... bless him, he still blesses us with his poetry stored here

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