The aged poet. For Kealan if

When he was young
and life was poetry
and poetry was life
and girls made poetry
in his heart

he’d showed his poems to
an aged poet who
was quiet a while then
nodded his head and
smiled and
said ‘keep writing’

and he swore that day
as long as he could hold a pen
he’d write some sort of poetry

and so he did and so he did

and when he was
too old to hold a pen
he spoke his poetry
some say in an Irish pub

and people came from miles around
and said sure it was a t’ousand times
better than to read his poems on the page
which was itself worth –
and that last phrase was poetry
for who is not Irish and a poet

and when he was too old
to walk down to the pub

they came and listened
at his door and at his window

and when he was too old to speak
they came to see his silence

and left as poets
for their head
had joined their heart

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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