Obituary Of The Unwritten, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @brianrrs37 on Twitter/X)

How can it be unleashed, much less written down
If in the reaches of my imagination
No inspiration is drifting around

It is an empty casket, no body to be found
It is the unlit pyre, burning nothing to the ground
It is the unplayed music, emanating no pleasant sound

How can it be described, or even read out loud
Hidden in dark shadows, obscured by midnight clouds
How can it be a poem, if it has no plot

It is the abandon building on the empty lot
It is the fallen apple, left on the ground to rot
It is the shattered hull, of the old sunken yacht

How can it evoke a sigh, or a lover’s cry
How can it draw a tear, to the reader’s eye
How can it lead to question with no reason why

It is the parched arid desert, midday heat of July
It is the dusty cob web, covering the rickety chair
In the musty basement, nothing lives down there
(end)