They Mean Less Poem by Shalom Freedman

The poems go on and on
They repeat themselves
They lose their rhythm
They mean less
The poems go on and on
Because it is hard to live without the poems
But perhaps they have been done
What could be done by me perhaps
Has been done forever
And perhaps it is better
For the poems to say good- bye to themselves
And for me to go on as a person
Whose name and life
Need no present connection with poetry
And are just there
Like a stone or a tree
Or an old man sitting in a wheelchair in an old age home
Waiting all day for the next meal
He can never really fully enjoy