Whom I could have become:
I think about what I might have done
A famous poet
Whose pen could draft
An array of mixed emotions,
Its armies ever ready to
Battle my wounded soul;
Or the single beat of a lonely heart,
Drumming a chorus of passion and rage,
Adding rhythm and rhyme
To an otherwise bland existence…
I think about what I might have done
Whom I could have become:
A starving artist
Whose brush might visualize
A stately yet solitary cloud,
From which a single drop
Might harvest an ocean of tears;
Or, perhaps, a rising son,
Making its divine ascent,
If only to expose and thus burn
All those who’d lie in its growing shadow…
Indeed, what might have been!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very nice poem; lovely wordweaving. Pl. correct son/sun.