The Day the Poet Died

The trees are dry, have a withered look

And the wheat has gone to seed,

The skies are grey on a summer’s day

And the river’s filled with weed,

The brook that babbled is sad and still

And the sea lies flat beside,

A lonely shore that had offered more

Till the day the poet died.

Gone is the sound of merriment

And the party jokes fall flat,

The folk just wander aimlessly

As they turn to this and that,

The traffic’s down to a sullen crawl

As the lights turn red beside,

And silence falls like a dreadful pall

Since the day the poet died.

The colours leach from the neon signs

And they turn a pavement grey,

There is no yellow or green chartreuse

To be seen since that dreadful day,

The liquor’s flat as a pieman’s hat

And you can’t get drunk, they sighed,

The children say they will run away

Now they know that the poet died.

And love has curdled in every heart

It was captured in his verse,

The sweet young bride has been left outside

Where no bells ring, which is worse,

The Moon at night is without its light

That it once would shine outside,

And lovers look for its beam in vain

Since the day that the poet died.

There is no poetry left in life

That was back in another time,

When the poet cursed as he wove his verse

And he sprinkled it well with rhyme,

But it’s sad to say, now he’s gone away

We must learn to feel inside,

And colour our world a different way,

Now that the poet’s died.

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Great Aunt Astri]

This is a very poignant ballad. Yes, we need those with imagination and insight to make this world a better place.
I love the way you deal with a different aspect in each verse. I am curious to know if all ballads have 8 line verses. Very much enjoyed this read.

[Simone Davis]

I rest enjoyed ready, I really don't know where I'd be if I couldn't write. I find it very therapeutic at times nice job.

[A Soap Mess Stories]

A clever ballad about poets making the world a better place.

[Avinash]

People often ignore beauty in things without the intervention of an artist. They are far too conditioned to see things in their tasteless and so called natural state.

[Coyote Poetry]

A amazing story described in the words.
"And colour our world a different way,
Now that the poet’s died."
I liked the honest tone and the realistic feel of the words. When the Poets left in ancient times. The world did change. Thank you David for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote