Dead Poets are liked pursed clams camped in hallow graves <br />Glassed, cold, mute but wiggling. <br />Clicking their deep hand prints in secret places <br />It seems strange to go seeking illumination from such sad & blighted ghosts <br /> <br />Never again to know their perceptional genius <br /> <br />Their marred hope <br />Their savage intimacy <br />Their staunch resolve <br />Their breached grace <br />Their caustic tragedies <br /> <br />To be so incapable to draw on the beauty of their art to anchor them to life<br /><br />DeAnna Esquilin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-sylvia-plath-the-like/
