Black Poetry : Requiescat: A Eulogy for Paul Lawrence Dunbar And His Magnificent Works

DigginThaShyne

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Apr 10, 2001
179
3
Hamlet,NC (The Middle of Nowhere)
Occupation
Presenter of Words
Last night, a poet died,
ten thousand simultaneously cried
as they sprinkled metaphors from heaven,
ashes to ashes
dust to dust,
and justified screaming, lusting for
just one more
well-lined plethora of emotion,
the way each plexus of poignant thought
was presented,
represented as delectable morsels,
it was sheer magic,
no, baby, it was poetry,
unique, potent, poetry
it sparked our interest
(we read it again and again)
drew out its intentions
confessed our sins,
laughed with each verse,
cried with each verse,
felt life complete with the expression in
each verse,
we were wrapped up inside each
soul-stirring word,
then we blinked, you were gone,
but you still live on,
at least what you epitomize
and you work characterized

--undaunted expression baptized in the lake of pure genius--

last night, a poet died,
a million’s tears dived like glimmering birds,
but the lyrical appreciation
and spell-binding sensation
is still felt inside,
each time they say
“He had a way…. with words”
 

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