Literature Demise


He wrote a piece that fell

on a multitude of ears

Inwardly digested by a fair amount of 

inward digestive systems

That is – I mean – what I’m trying to say is…

Taken on board – by a stumbled-on – majority

That made it brilliant – a brilliant piece of literature

The critics agreed and made speed

In hastening their accolades of much vaunted praise

But was it so?

Was it made much of – only in it’s time?

Whilst passing years eroded it – to demise

Only discovered again many moons later

Up from the grave of disregarded dusty stories

To rise short-lived for a while

But never regaining it’s ‘heavyweight champion’ status

What you make of words – it’s up to you

Alone you make the pilgrimage to the grave

The grave where the accident happened

Laying your yearly wreaths at the stone of

An old hardback copy – no one wants to read

3 thoughts on “Literature Demise

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