I cannot write poetry anymore
for it has become an odious chore
and my fingers and wrists become terribly sore…
So I vow not to write poetry anymore.
Farewell to expression in very few words
Farewell to references to sunsets and birds
Farewell to delicate poetic standards
and peculiar tricks like writing things backwards
And journeys and lost love and dark nights and seas,
I bid goodbye also to each one of these,
as to all of the notions that easily please
the tired passengers of metropolitan taxis
Farewell to the beautiful flowery phrases
Farewell to the rhythmic sound, which amazes
each tender ear, to each musical word that raises
some cliché flicker that burns and blazes
Farewell to inspiration in grocery store aisles
and courtrooms that hold poetic trials
and the free-flowing criticism that comes when one dials
the unseasoned lips that whisper denials
Farewell to many topics that have been depleted
and all the impurities that were left untreated
Farewell to the friction of words overheated
Farewell to the sighs of a poem completed