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A POET'S LAMENT Quality, you for whose virtue So few of us still weep And so often wonder how You slipped into your final sleep. Quality, you for whose presence So few of us still crave Do not seem justified now Buried so deeply in your grave. The time has passed when words Slipping softly into song Could lighten heavy burdens Making life's short season long. The mood of now is Acquisition Born not out of need But simply Greed Made pretty By pursuers of a new transition from Quality to Speed. |
Additional Notes:
This poem was published in The North American Mentor Magazine, Volume XXI, Number 2, Summer 1983 after being entered in their annual poetry contest. This was an original poem by this author--did not win but was thrilled to have my words in print. This is the only place the poem has appeared until now.
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