This just randomly popped into my cranium. Where are the poets? Did they all die at the end of the century? Look at our times. We have rockstars, we have writers….now we have bloggers. But where are the poets? Where are those names, whose words can inspire a thought? Words that can tweak an emotion? Where are they all? Did we succumb to the new world? Have we become so caught up in a commercial life driven by advertisements and products, a life so materialistic that it consumes us and obtaining that insignificant object becomes the subliminal pursuit of all our actions? Where are the poets? Don’t people sit down and think any more? Don’t they convert thoughts and emotions into words? Poetry apparently has become a mere talisman of an age of thought gone by which we carry around in books. Young boys in the pursuit of romance use poetry as a weapon to woo a love that herself considers poetry archaic yet romantic enough to let herself be swooped off her feet. But that’s where the story ends? Where is our Wordsworth? Our Frost? Putting a Jim Morrison or a Bob Dylan on the same plane is not the same thing. What happened to our poets? Where is the poet of my time? Will the future generations read only lost wonders of ‘miles to go before I sleep’? Or will they find something a little more contemporary? Where are the poets? Did we just kill them? Did rock music kill the poets?