Dreck writes itself,
caring not, says 'What the heck'
to all this rot - - that is, the thought
that words can mean an awful
lot or that they arise from a
Place that can't be sought.
Now, Drivel differs in that it suffers
emotional leaks plus annoying squeaks,
stealing furtive peeks at others' works
for 'inspiration' (see plagiarization) ,
failing (silly jerk) to capture
the rapture of original quirk.
Alas, not forgotten, unfortunately,
there is but one more entity:
Doggerel, doggedly determined to
be embraced like dogma by you
and me - - less of which said the better
for much like a wet woolen sweater,
Doggerel and Kin stink high up to
heaven, sticking itch-i-ly to poetic skin.
As Fate dictates, the writer is
the last to know, always,
that D., D. & D.has him/her
by trembling toe as,
dear Friend in Poetry,
I well should know (alas) -!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem