When all the poets died <br />no one noticed they had expired <br />the world continued turning round <br />and the credit crunch it crunched them <br />to the economic ground <br />the birds continued to sing their songs <br />the moon waited in the the light <br />to shine on all when it gets dark at night <br />but the music soon got stale <br />and thoughts just stayed <br />on well worn rails <br />when all the poets died <br />no one really cried <br />as if the world it really cared <br />to be missing a few simple words <br />from poets that were no longer home <br />to write of what is not yet known. <br /> <br />When all the poets died <br />some others thought they'd try <br />to write some verses down <br />and on the internet they'd circulate them round <br />and chat, converse about the verse <br />that most resembled what poets write <br />deeply in the moonlit nights.<br /><br />David Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-all-the-poets-died/
