The can, the can of worms,
Holiest in nature.
Candid words can squirm,
Fears needn't be confirmed.
The can, the can of soup,
Warhol the raconteur.
Noodles cry out, 'Whoop! '
One embroidery hoop.
The can, can in my head,
Oh, Louis Pasteur,
Ferment once you're dead.
Ironic thoughts I dread.
(June 21,2010)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Loving your poems! I love how you play around with semantics :) It's good to read poems with a little humour now and then! :)