If I Could but keep up
with them
A hundred poems
each night
every where
no where not here
I should be
Thoughts by the thousands
escape so from me
once thought
not written down
no sound gone
from me
Forever from I
cursed or blessed
racing mind
Such as a chello
rosined bow
thirty second time
five minutes nonstop
burn up the line
Rosined so pad
of said hammer
striking a key
double that time
light a cigarette
on me
Such is he or she
with so said mind
always instructed
to keep proper time
Such minds are defective
instructed to me
barely last few months
scratched the surface
to thee
Many thousands of pages
in so said same book
pressed for time
must hurry never forget
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think it's known as 'Restless Mind Syndrome.' [not really, I just made that condition up] But actually our minds are continually racing with thoughts and sometimes the words flow and sometimes not. Yet in the end it all comes together, or not......it's not the amount but the 'quality' that counts.....Nice write Egale.........marci.xo