When a published poet dies,
A shooting star falls.
The universe cries
And rainbows hugs waterfalls.

When an old poet dies,
A new poet is born.
Nature lights up a million fireflies,
And a ship gives a tot on its horn.

When a young poet dies,
A Crack appears in a crystal ball.
A Fountain pen dries,
And a sad poem appears on a wall.

When an old poetess dies,
For a while the wind will cease.
Petals will fall from Lillies,
And disappear without a trace.

When a great poetess dies,
Fallen poets observe silence.
The men adorn black bow ties,
And the ladies dress in elegance.

When any poet dies,
The world loses a bright mind.
Shakespeare appears across the skies,
Waving to those of us left behind.

When a poor poet dies,
Nothing at all happens.
The world goes about its duties
He goes on to rest with other legends.


#IvanBrooksPoetry
29/7/2018

Time keeps moving forward,
Always on the go

Sometimes fast, sometimes slow

Time never stays in one place
too long

in my harbor, there's no lighthouse
so I look for a guiding light
to help me find a spouse
I pray for once that my ship sails right

the moon and stars line up
my albatross finds a blessing
and the first mate raises a cup
to a woman more than window dressing

how joyful to see the clock with a smile
as the hands of time shines good fate
here comes the bride walking down the aisle
alas arm in arm in love with my mate

if at the end of the dock lost hearts sing as one
our silhouette forever framing the moon and sun

Logan Robertson

7/29/2018