The sea is swept in mystery
She confides in me no more.
No whispers in the shells
Or echoes from the shore.
You do not argue with the wind,
You can not bargain with the sky.
Standing back to back with mountains
We watch and weep while angels die.
For the face of life is fleeting,
Tweeting, tapping at your door,
Ravens that won't relent,
Yet ones you can't ignore.

But I'm boring you I'm sure.
I was talking about the ocean
And how we speak no more.
It's not that we don't get on
We still have much to say.
Words are made of water
Written in the waves.
Now the tide is out,
The sea seems
Far away.

the poetry community
hereby declares
this day as the absent
poet day
they who've disappeared
without a trace
and we so miss
their penning grace
listing them all
would take many hours
to do
but we're sure you'll
all know
the ones we're fondly
referring to
they've gone from
the poet fraternity's fold
and haven't returned
in their garments of gold

why did they vanish
why did they fade
our fantastic brothers and sisters
of the poetry parade