Death of a poem

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zJN7dFKS4AU/VRZtGUSVeeI/AAAAAAAAAF8/ErGBFPTMDz0/s630-fcrop64=1,2196669de075f5a0/kkkk.jpg

The sonnet died,
The nonnet cried,
The pens bled
And the pages wept,
The couplet giggled
But the tercet scowled,
The octave panicked,
The quatrain mumbled a dirge.
The septet tried to sing a ballad
to comfort everyone.
The cinquain just watched silently
And the sestet was transfixed by the graveyard,
Paying its last respect.
Β©Teddy Temple 2016

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