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

DONE WITH IT

No reason to purge onward,
the urge to continue died
with each last breath buried
in the words written to please
others. Their quest for inner peace
came at a cost too great for me,
and it does not sate me to succeed.
So, I give up the ghost and seek a host
of other adventures before my chest
falls still. I will think of these things fondly,
but in all future endeavors, I’m done.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

Suggested by POETIC ASIDES – Day 30 – Finished/Unfinished