Dead Poet On The Wall Poem by Louis Cecile

Dead Poet On The Wall

Rating: 5.0


As I write my last my poem
For once I have the courage to stand tall
Flashback my career as memory recalls

I began writing for fun
A melody of rhyme highlighted me gifted
When aroused by a concept my words became spirited

This label of talent, unfortunately does not feature
Aimed to get respect from my peers, words of encouragement flattered
Though to make a sale the public really mattered

I am one of the same like a black tie event
This mental pressure to create causes solitude pain
A few loyal followers and still no fame

In this creative pool
I write a poem at 10.52
Another writes better in a time zone of 8.52

Contacting publishers they say poetry will not increase their figure
This man in a suit cannot even write poem
In my mind I believe I have to disown him

I sense I am writing into the wind
Thankful comments no longer stir me
A stereotypical poet my facial features are surly

Social media profile closes down as I hate looking in the mirror
Tweeps message out of care
When offline then reality stares

No longer dictated by stanzas
I join the dead poets on the wall
Rest in peace as my pen falls

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
This poem is for a few poets I know who have quit and for some who question the point of it all.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Elena Sandu 09 October 2013

Please dear Poet, don't make me cry! Please keep keep a strong hold of your pen don't let anything to take it away. The pen is a poet's best friend, is there anything else that could follow a poet into the grave? Some people are burried with money in their coffin, some with flowers but the poet shall hold on to his pen and paper. Keep writing my friend, and if possible please read my post the poets are the revolution of love I pray it will change your mind.

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