The Dead Poet Poem by Trevor McLeod
The Dead Poet
Where the poet died
while writing what,
His hand gone by
for what he thought
Were no more words
than what he got
from on his page
as just a jot
where sickle made
was Reaper Sought!
My dear poet, a poem never dies, it becomes immortal like the poets themselves, BUT you wrote a very amazing poem on the theme you mentioned, I have enjoyed and can tell you, a fascinating poem, it flows like a song.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
5/6/2024 7:53:13 PM # 1.0.0.1119
2) Much enjoyed your scintillating words. The graphic is also cutest (am designer too)