Forgive me:
It's been a month
of suffering,
and suddenly words flow
and flood,
jettison,
won't stop
with the clock
can't be controlled
can't be bruited
or muted
or mooted.
In line
after line
by accident
by design
it ain't poetry
and it ain't prose
it's gibberish,
of fish
a pretty kettle
(cf. Keats)
stop it
stop it
cap it
top it
this pome
of foam
suds
duds
PS:
SOS
ceaSe
deSiSt
ssssssss
sssss
sss
s- - -
QUIT
QT
U I (me)
Q
T -
hee
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem