The day the poems stopped

The day the incandescent orb Shattered cross the sky And the will in me to cry Was not ignored When pretenses and hopes were dropped That’s the day the poems stopped When I reached for knowledge That was sadly as expected Yet again, gently rejected Like some missing link from school to college I found I’d lost the gift to write And poems ceased to come at night Thusly determined and confused Is it major, or is it minor? Is it drama, or God’s one-liner? I’m tired, sad, amused But at least I find it comforting That only I must bear this thing. Mark Burton Sunday, April 23, 2006, 2:03 A.M.