OLD POETS NEVER DIE

Expired expressions fester
and pester a weary poet’s soul,
needing to control the conversation.
And it is with elation that the wordsmith
strings words together like the pearls
of wisdom he imagines. Between neuron
spasms and fired synapses, the trap
has been bated. It is our fate to write
to the last, rhyme if there’s time,
And know each chosen word has meaning,
gleaning the exact definition from your words.
All other pursuits are for the birds.
May your words live on. You’re never done.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

Prompted by POETIC ASIDES – Day 30 – Finished/Unfinished

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