Poem: The Poet is dead

Poets don’t die

They died the day they took a bullet

And swallowed it

Not to amuse anyone

Or perform any magical stunts

But to display their naked bodies

On the pedestal of hope

They died the moment they folded their blindness

And opened the curtain of knowing

It was the death of ego

That really made them immortal

When they held peace in their hands

They were celebrating immortality

When they ate from the table of compassion

They were cementing their presence in eternity

Poets don’t die

Their tears have been flowing since ancient times

Their mission has always been to open the heart of humanity

And let the mysteries of eternity into the human soul

To awaken the spirit within

And ignite the everlasting fires of peace, happiness and Love

The Poet is dead is not a poem

But a rendition of a beautiful story

A life lived serving others

A life portrayed on the canvas of poetry

A life shared with so many that it ceased to resist

This the life of Daniel Brick

May His Soul be forever more illuminated

Through his beautiful poems

And life changing story

He will continue to talk to us

And guide us

Into the shores of eternity

Forever and ever

©Kenneth Maswabi

Daniel J. Brick, USA

“I was born in Minnesota, in the Twin Cities, in 1947 and lived my whole life here. This is where I am rooted, near the Mississippi River, in a landscape of four seasons with many trees and parks and lakes. These are the natural things I treasure. Poetry and classical music are my passions. Over the years most of my friends have moved to warmer climates, so in old age I find myself to be something of a loner. But I have a talent for solitude. Latest eBook published: ‘The Double Door’ – English Edition.”