Every week I write a poem,
Thinking how cool I could be.
A 21 st Century Lord Byron,
Writing poetry could do the trick for me.
Party Invitations and Fame Galore,
Lord Byron used to have this and all more.
But poetry died, and Byron died much earlier in disgrace.
His aristocratic funeral attended by an empty caravan.
Harry Potter may have rejuvenated the novel,
Bringing back poetry is too much for One man.
So turn your head, and swipe your card.
Modern age civilization aint no place for ahh bard.
Let you drink and have soda water,
Pre Packed Hangover remedies the morning after.
Caught up in a material world.
Dead artists are worth their weight in gold.
Stupid poetry, are all ahh I can offer you for today.
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(photo credit-Lord Byron at age 25 (1813 portrait by Richard Westall)
