lunes, noviembre 08, 2010

Why all my poets are dead?

Oh Sylvia, why have you died on me?

How come your silky words don’t describe me any more?

Such pain, such sorrow

An incomplete life is what we have

Oh Alfonsina, where are you now?

What passionate feelings are keeping you from me?

So much anger, so much rage

An abyss of pain and loneliness are we now

Oh Julia, when did you disappear?

How come you wonder the streets with out me?

What a passion, what a love

A heart that grows so big that can barely live anymore

And then, why am I still here?

Where are my poets now?

When will I see my thoughts on your words?

My muse,

My inspiration,

They can not reach you any longer.

As I lay dying drunk and demented

I cry for your short journeys

And live toward your tragic endings…

© YRM -- March 13, 2009 -- Houghton, MI