Highly Strung Poem by Derek ThomasRymer
Highly Strung
I recognised two familiar clowns.
She said to me:
The problem is, he's over strung.
I thought of
an empty sphere
a close-woven hysteric
puffed up with flatulence
a strung-out mess of split ends
and randon gaps.
Dismissive, I said:
I can't help you I'm afraid
no-one could, you've got yourself
a boredom generator.
He just sat there
empty as an egotist's compliment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 7:39:11 AM # 1.0.0.1119
