The post modern poet

The silent poet composed words within his head.

Nothing spoken, nothing said.

Observing life, the colours in the grey

Didn’t speak, didn’t say.

Witnessed the moments passed by from other folk.

Didn’t utter, never spoke

Didn’t wish to offend or provoke

Sentences of silence

Uttered outwardly within

Questioned his reality

A post modernity recluse

Attended trendy parties

Wearing a fashionable noose.

They didn’t say anything

Were they even there?

Sat and drank whisky

Into the empty glass did stare.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s