The Poet


he wrote little bits of meaning

on scraps of paper


and the people said

it's very pretty

and very good

(and very witty)

and they hoped he would

write some more


but he laid down his pen

and looked at them

with the eyes

of a great, sad dalmatian


and wrote no more



© John McNeil. All rights reserved.
This poem may be used free of charge, on the condition that copies are not sold for profit in any medium, nor any entrance fee charged to a performance. In exchange, the author would appreciate being notified of any occasion the poem is used in public performance. He may be contacted at: Or at: 36B Stourbridge St, Christchurch 8024, New Zealand.