By Bobby Garcia

No fit of rage or gaze of wonder
Does a true poet fall asunder
Nor do vines of burgundy verses
Wither and die from vengeful curses

Songs of pain borne of gentle kiss
Do not abate the grim remiss
Which death hath not won nor stole
But rather delivered whole

A true poet does not stop breathing
He does not stiffen or lose feeling
The words do not permit defeat
‘til the bonfire burns complete

No poet dies a modest death
Ever he tries ‘til his last breath
To siphon air through words
And through his words, live on

One true death a poet may die
Cede to doubt and refuse to try
To marry sorrow with healing verse
And instead bury what in him bursts

 

Bobby is both an SEU alumnus and current student. He credits Semester At Sea with broadening his horizons and his daughter for narrowing his focus. He’ll never write anything that will compare with either. He tries anyway.

Photo by Kiva Navarro.