an old acquaintance of mine, on reading
some of what I've been writing nowadays,
remarked that clever commentaries are no
substitute for real art. I, of course, heartily agree.
What I write is what I would call didactic verse.
Here are a couple of old examples of where
I used a modicum of imagination, although the
poem concerning the two ten year olds was, in
actuality, as true as I can remember it.
1. Plastic Man
Plastic man
Was always lonely
Stretching away
In every endeavor
Every relationship
Stretching his youth away
Towards greaterness.
In old age
Past his prime
Still stretching
He knows
Closures must ensue
In the wake of going through.
There he goes now!
He must have been here!
Goodbye... Plastic man...
2. I Can't Recall Her Name
She had an 'agate' eye she could not see out from.
I learnt from other boys to call her: Snake Eye.
I would play with her, where other boys wouldn't,
And was pleased how gladly she could turn from harsh to soft
After her mother came and told us boys the score -
That we were being cruel with words - we didn't know -
Or did we? - us boys had to stick together.
I liked her after that. The other boys would still
Sometimes tease her, and never want to play with her.
One time we talked about her eye. It felt so good
To be serious with someone not in play -
I could have done without the games throughout that day -
I liked her, only I. One day she moved away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem