SH ( / )

Death Of A Poem

Shot down in its prime.
Shot down
While making daisy chains in the park
For little girls to be daisy queens.
Shot down
While tottering down the catwalk
In this years daring fashion.
Shot down
While bungee jumping from Brooklyn bridge.
Shot down
While kite boarding on Porthmadog beach
Shot down
While refusing ecstasy at a rave,
High on the beat and energy of the music
Shot down
While drawing a moustache on Mona Lisa
And carrying Michelangelo’s David
Back to its rightful place in the square,
Where he can enjoy the sunshine, rain and wind
In his hair.
Shot down in its prime.
Lying dead now
On a cold white slab.
Experts dissecting its liver and heart,
Picking over interesting bits.
Sew it back together
Please.
Don’t leave it in the fridge.
Give it a decent burial,
Leave it some dignity
And let me weep for it,
Shot down in its prime.

User Rating: 4,5 / 5 ( 10 votes ) 14

Comments (14)

Enjoyed your poem Sallie. Sometimes our poems are 'shot down' or not appreciated by 'experts' but the beauty of a good poem will always triumph. Much enjoyed :)
A wonderfully touching poem, Sallie. Thanks for sharing.
A very beautiful imagery
Shot down in its prime. Lying dead now On a cold white slab. Experts dissecting its liver and heart, Picking over interesting bits. Sew it back together Please. Don’t leave it in the fridge. Give it a decent burial, Leave it some dignity And let me weep for it, Shot down in its prime. Simply beautiful and heartbreaking. The part I pasted above really reigns in all of the emotion, pity and sadness, felt at the death of a poem. And let me weep for it for me that was the punch line! ~Nika
Shot down in its prime, young and delicate just like those New town kids.Couldn't help thinking of them while reading this soul touching poem.
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