A poet, head heeding to no hard rules,
That walks tall leaning on no staff of cane,
Penchant for pen, passion with no refrain,
A student of own self, taught at no schools;
His pen no offspring of self-inflict pain,
Let ace swimmers come from no shallow pool,
Let wanderlust in no local parks cool,
His prolific pen dries not, should ink drain.
He knows, wild flora weird fragrance spread,
Their blossoms in bushes boast of fond friends,
Though far afar from plucking, prying hands;
Much so, like wild flowers he earns no grade.
It is when art retains reward its own,
He learns to remain fresh like early dawn.
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Sonnets | 03.07.11 |
Fresh! Muse, Poetry; Heeding to no hard rules. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
" Their blossoms in bushes boast of fond friends, " maybe " frond *** friends" ? *** frond: " the leaf or leaflike part of a palm, fern, or similar plant" Either way, i like the f/f alliteration. :) i guess the poet has a magical pen! ! ! : " His prolific pen dries not, should ink drain." bri ;)
...But I must thank you for visiting this 2011 poem finding no readers/commentators except for the brave soul, Edward Kofi Louis. Not mine alone, but there are some good gems buried amidst a lot of dross.
Thanks, at last some good words, I must thank for small mercies, Bri, the Big Boss. No, I can't agree with 'frond', it is a specialized word Botanically used. Besides no puns for the sake of puns, 'Fond friends' is what I mean... Besides I'm the poet and all arguments end there.