Unsaid, Unsaid
The red poem remains unread
What were the words we thought it said?
Why do you think our screen went dead?
The dun poem remains undone
A deep regret for everyone
Its unwrote end no end of fun
As every poem thrives on the reader's mind
Our words of rhyme so slick, entwined
Confound the living, vex the dead
For nothing's better left unsaid
Than words unwrote and words unread
A sound poem, of type unsound
By whose skill were these words bound
Who deflates our burial-mound?
A clear poem, of type unclear
Transparent yes!, could we but hear
Slacker poets slushing beer
| Contributors: | Skip Knox, P, Kansas Sam, Roland, Anon., loaf, trad. |
| Poem finished: | 22nd April 2003. |