A Poet Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
A Poet
LP Gas. It's a second choice.
Always has been. May as well
be in the future, same as always.
Nothing special, just the gas.
Blowing bubbles, stinking up
the atmosphere, useful perhaps.
But stays among the unmentioenable,
without significance. Or anything.
Wow. They said he might. But?
He could not, would not, did not.
He did not have it. Only hot air.
Which ain't enough.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 1:13:51 AM # 1.0.0.1119
That could be said about a few on this site....lol!