Why Poetry Cries Poem by John Sensele

On a poetry pedestal
Your works stood tall
Remembering you didn't toil in vain
When increasingly you drank your rain

To soothe the pain you felt
In August when your knees knelt
In gratitude for the inspiration
That extracted from your soul perspiration

Enjoining you to persevere
Although their hearts idols did revere
Flogging flowers you grew
At the time you caressed your crew who from you inspiration drew

To unite creativity and flair
Synergizing to repair the care
That cringed in fear
When from poetry they extracted a tear

That fell when hope seemed to die
As fabrics of poetry they began to tie
In bundles of rubbish
They began to publish in a noxious niche

Cutting short your breath
In the morning they crucified faith
Proclaiming poetry lies
Roasting rhymes and flies

Unless prose proves its worth
Dressing thoughts in a firth
They couldn't play
In a dodgy display

Where poetry couldn't fit
When they amputated her feet
To minimize her influence
Where Zambezi and Luangwa rivers fraternize a confluence.