Fiddles and Riddles,
Riddles and Fiddles
That's how Poets speak,
They're called 'metaphors',
But their clarity is often weak,
It's only twisted language,
Where imagination and absurdity peak
In a lonely World, so cold and bleak.
Rarely use metaphors myself. I prefer plain simple verse. Well said Sandra.
Many poems fall in a funeral pyre, Why not throw them all, on a big bonfire! ! !
A poet with a brain! And a poem containing thought! Right on, Sandra Feldman!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ezra Pound called it Imagism. No trick no useless confusing stuff, just say what you see.* *