For Robert Maudlin

The twenty-seventh anniversary,

Of you joining the twenty-seven club.

The loss unto this day still torments me,

Your blessed works poets now still snub.

 

It seems I won’t recover from your death

Blessed by angel assisted suicide.

The Wyoming breeze caught your final breath,

I feel that a part of me also died.

 

Hell, I write enough for two poets now,

I have truly become the muse’s slave.

For mere acceptance I will not kowtow,

Still teaching me well from beyond your grave.

 

The Raven winks at The Rooster above,

Robert Maudlin the poet I write of.

 

09/20/2025

 

Reviews

[Betty Hermelee]

A superb tribute, to someone you admired...and you show it in every word of this fine poem; I like the rhythm and the style.... its suits the mood....
Warmly, B