Death of an Unknown Poet

An epic,
written by a brilliant mind
like Van Gogh,
underappreciated.
The poet dies in a squalid flat,
penniless and alone.
His lifes' work-
fantasmic verses of a visionary-
are all stuffed post-humously
into a box.
His genius,
mistaken for useless scribble,
is discarded like so much riff-raff.
It decays, forgotten.
Years pass.
The epic masterpiece alone survives
in that box filled with scraps of faded ink.
A single heart-wrenching poem,
now loved by millions,
by a now-mourned author

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poem by Meggan McGuire
Added by Poetry Lover
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House of Flesh

Crooked,
decrepit windows
see the world in shades of grime.
This lonely house sreaks
and groans in the rain.

Tattered
mother-eaten drapes
cover the hurt of abandonment.

People pass by
and talk cheerfully
of their own inhabited homes,
graced by the presence of a loving owner.
They are filled,
overflowing,
with friendly masses.
They are filled with people
who look in pity and distain
at this crumbling house on the corner.

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poem by Meggan McGuire
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!