Kevin Michael Bloor

Death of a Poet

One day at dawn a poet rose

And thought he\'d try his hand at prose

To poet pals he met at park

He said, \"That\'s how I\'ll make my mark!\"


Loquacious lad like Marcel Proust

His brevity just needed boost!

As poet, he\'d been stuck in mud

Like lotus bloom bound up in bud


He longed to be verbose in verse

But deep inside his heart did nurse

A need to nurture novel long

So sure that stanzas suited song


Or sentimental, love-filled line

While he was craving stronger wine

That flowed effusively like stream

A sea of endless words - his dream!