Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2019
To live in the sea of oblivion only in death to find fame,
This is the burden of the poet when gone they remember his name,
In life he is despised and rejected in dead he’s a hero to all,
This is a paradox of the poet this is the well in which he falls.
The depth of his words speak like Abel’s blood,
Crying from beyond the grave, now that he is gone immortality is gain,
The world is never more the same; he is praised for his grand orations,
And missed by friends who never called,
This is a paradox of the poet this is the well in which he falls,
So when he dies I say bring no roses, shed not a tear at his demise
For his words were true even when he was with you, had you just opened your eyes,
Tell not the world of his brilliance; speak not to fools of his charm
But give him his due while he is there with you, for he feels like any man other.
Junior McIntyre
Written by
Junior McIntyre
36
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems