The Hauntings And Concerns Of Dead Poets And Poetesses Poem by Shaun Cronick

I broke a poetry golden rule trying,
Hard to make this poem read fine.
I should have carried the word trying,
To the beginning of the second line.

Oh dear God what will become of me,
I am a charlatan and poetry cheat.
Though rereading what I've written,
It does fit together nice and neat.

But can I truly live with myself,
Now knowing of what I have done.
Perhaps any reader won't notice
My poetry crime second to none.

Dead poets are turning in their graves,
Shakespeare and Poe do return from theirs.
The endless ghosts of poets and poetesses,
Echoing their countless concerns and cares.

Oh why do you all bloody haunt me!
I only carried over one simple word.
I've learnt never upset dead poets,
For their voices can still be heard.