Death Took The Poet While Writing
“Sullivan The Poet” as Michael Sullivan referred to himself, was a writer I came across online well over a decade ago. I commented on and exchanged verses with him, and his opinion mattered as a writer of talent. Id lost contact with his work and only when remembering him and looking to see how he was doing now, I sadly found he passed away. Death comes to us all. He died as writers dream of, by the quill. He was found, in front of his computer, working on his verses. What tales he had yet to tell…
“Poetry will be the death of me”, many a writer jokes,
Who writes rhymes and verse for the enjoyment of other folks,
To die while writing would for most writers be the ideal way to go…
Though we dont think of such much, or at least it we dont show,
We meet other writers at events or online
Or on the printed page were we are captivated by a line
Or two that they have written, that with us strikes a chord
Of familiarity, of the brethern of the written word…
Such was he, Sullivan to me, a man Id never met,
Bar online passing comments about words to print we had set…
In time Id read other witers, lost contact with what he had written new
Though he was one of the rhymers who as a poet I held as true…
Then, all too often on remembering, I looked him up to how
He is, and what is he writing of now,
Only to find his last words written, death has come to take him away,
His last words on the screen unfinished, what he had to in verse to say…