Poetry Died Today

Poetry died silently today
Words on faded paper.
An unspoken epitaph.

The mother chiding her daughters,
All in accidental rhyme,
The priest who praised the lilies,
Words that sing through time.

Martin Luther King with his dream,
Obama’s soaring words of hope,
That rapper’s message 
Of prisons, crime and dope.

I hear the birds call,
Words fall as the music thrilled
I know now poetry can never be killed.

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