A Premature Requiem for Poets
Poetry is not what it was
A hundred and ten years ago.
Before we had TVs' or cinemascope
Before there was even a radio.
You didn't have CDs or even,
Albums of popular songs
If you didn't play a decent piano,
It was hard to host sing-alongs.
If you could not carry a tune,
Then poems were all that you had,
Tennyson, Byron, Wordsworth or Shelley.
You could read if your singing was bad.
With technology our tastes grow eclectic.
We've the best in music and singing.
Our poets are performers these days.
So free verse is history I'm thinking.
I don't think it's so bad we should mourn,
Poetry's not dead it just ebbs.
I think that poetical verse will remain
As long as there are world wide webs.
Professional poets write music these days.
Classical musicians write film scores.
Art evolves by natural selection.
And gets better the more it explores.
And poets and singers once going unnoticed,
Have a web page and post poetical sessions.
All by themselves at no cost to their pockets,
They publish without anyone's permission.
Cruising the ocean of artistic devotion
The work of shopkeepers and peasants.
And mothers and children who love to create.
Is a pastime that I find quite pleasant.
You may not find tens of thousands of fans,
But you may find in creating your art,
A way to connect with poetical friends
And it may be good for your heart.
© 2020 by Tom King
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