Mark Twain Poem by Evangeline Ingram
Mark Twain
All the poets are dead,
save the ones left on tumblr,
who you can message ten times
without putting down breakfast.
The world's grown smaller,
and closer together,
and living and dead
are not so far apart.
When words echo onward
Who cares for the speaker?
Is being deceased
required to matter?
Words move to mouths
that spoke them far better,
even if those mouths
never said them at all.
A witty rendition set aside for sober reflection. Thanks for sharing Evangeline and do remain enriched.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/29/2024 9:31:16 PM # 1.0.0.1119
really witty Evangeline Ingram, very nice quotes in between, I think I might steal it even though I never said it. u may like t check out my poem Brother in Arm