Saturday, April 19, 2014

Elegy for poems dying young



Elegy for poems dying young


I mourn them:
all those beautiful infant poems
birthed in the umbra of slumber,
offering such promise, but
slipping away in the night;
all the ones that cascaded
into semi-consciousness,
niggled at neurons, then trickled
through the cracks of cognizance
with nary a touch of pen to paper;
and those poems that tickled my tongue
at one time or another
but never got to byte.

I’d like to believe they still exist, somewhere
out there, floating in the ether,
on some other plane, perhaps,
awaiting another opportunity;
that I’ll awaken one morning
to a familiar foundling on my stoop.

But, failing that, 
mayhap one might appear 
on another poet’s doorstep,
reborn.

  
PSC/2014-Apr




Written for 2014 April PAD Challenge:  Day 16 – An Elegy poem:


 

4 comments:

  1. OH, what a lovely last stanza. And what a generous thought.

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  2. Thanks, De! Glad you enjoyed this!

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  3. Foundling on the stoop or reborn in another poet's heart...LOVE this poem. ♥

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    Replies
    1. Ahhhh, thanks, Hannah! How did I miss this year old comment? So glad you stopped by to catch this one. :)

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