These poems are lost like asphyxiated fetuses
Who will never smile, talk or use psychokinesis
These poems will never be read or heard silently
Or aloud; they are vanished like smoke definitely.
These unwritten masterpieces would have been read
Known, heard and studied by everyone under the sun
Their authors would have been prominent; having fun
Is very important to a poet dozing on a blue velvety bed.
Perhaps these poems were meant to be lost for a reason
Oh! We can only dream and imagine for another season
Another life where nothing can be lost forever, for infinity.
Life could have been better for humanity, for all who breathe
Whatever is lost is perhaps unimportant for time and history
Man aspires more to waste, more to forget and to bequeath.
Copyright © November 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem