Rhymes have left my rhyme-less brain
Will not those rhymes return again?
I wonder where they wander to
When leaving me without a clue
Perhaps I’ve reached my rhyme plateau
Why they left I’ll never know
I’ve tried in earnest with all my vigor
To seek and find a rhyming trigger
My rhyming ship has run aground
Rudderless, no rhyme around
I wonder why, without a trace
My rhymes left me for outer-space
A poet without a verse or rhyme
Is like a sleuth without a crime
Or a sailor without a ship to sail
Or a carpenter without a saw or nail
Now I’m at a total loss
No rhymes at all, my bear to cross
Rhymes have left my rhyme-less brain
Will not those rhymes return again?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Alas, Stanley Cooper there's more to fear Than the absence of a rhyme lurking near. It's the way that words seem to say Something else from what's in play. You start out to make a statement When your brain is in forment, Then the logic and sense slip away And nothing remains but shapes of clay. Molded into a sculpture that has no meaning And sometimes the sight is quite demeaning. Yet you struggle with each line Hoping to find something more sublime Till at last you admit defeat Just in time, and in hasty retreat You, like a general that has lost the war And saving face, his only care. So you put to paper (or to the computer screen) The reminants of a shattered dream And close the book of time and space Until you can find another place In which to freely associate thoughts and words In rhyming sequence in bits and schards. Then suddenly you'll shout 'Eureka! I got it.' Only to discover the thoughts don't fit.