Elegy for a Poet
I hark back to the days when I
Began, in pen and ink,
To scrawl some petty poems,
How to feel, and how to think,
And people seemed to like the way
My simple little rhymes
Would trace a basic pattern
Through the heartache of their times.
So I continued writing; then
I typed my manuscripts,
I hit the keys so hard that
All my paper fell to bits,
But still I persevered, until
Computers stole the scene,
And little plastic keyboards
Put the words up on a screen.
But all along I used the name
Of Earle E. Everett,
I used it in the magazines,
And on the Internet,
My work was always copyright
I'd scrawl that little ©,
To keep the rights forever
For my family and me.
Then recently, while surfing through
A site I'd never seen,
A poem that I'd written years ago
Came on the screen,
I read it with nostalgia then,
I sat and read it all,
But written at the bottom was
The name of - 'Charles McFall'.
I looked in vain for something
That would say that it was mine,
That poem was a grape I'd plucked,
New fallen from the vine,
But nowhere did it state the name
I'd always seen there yet,
No sign that it was written by
The poet Everett.
I sat there stunned, and fearful
And angry, fit to burst,
I mailed the new Webmaster,
And I must admit - I cursed!
I said that stolen copyrights
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poem by David Lewis Paget
Added by Poetry Lover
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