I have yet to write my greatest work
Pondering and postulating, in words diverse
Each poem ‘till then a mere rehearse
Toward the work of greatest verse
Honing my skills, I whittle and whittle
Each word cutting precise emotion
Cunning and comfy the context at battle
Yet narrow minded in its devotion
Confound and compound, lingual in texture
Twisting and turning, cerebral in gist
Latitudinal waving, shaking the structure
Laughing, crying, pounding fist
A secret meaning unread is missed
For in the text a message exists
And that!
Is the greatest poem ever written
We are all our own worst critics... Very nice poem, made me smile...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Really? Oh I get it. 'It is in progress.' Ok, Ok, i'll buy it.Read mine - Cicatrix - Adeline