A clean sheet of paper,
or a dirty torn scrape.
What shall I tender,
what in creation tap?
Today could it be the time
for the that masterpiece?
Or to scribble out rhyme,
maybe some art to tease?
Will I use the finest brush,
or a broken pencil stub?
Should I paint in a rush,
or write in the bathtub?
Will I write against injustice,
or paint kitties and puppies?
Something light and fluffy,
or maybe deep, dark and ugly?
How about a brooding death's song,
or a painted peaceful backdrop?
I wish I could count on creations craft,
of the artist's view or the poet's draft,
but, how can I work with that vapid TV on?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem