Poetry is nonsense.
Yet I pass it around
As if it was the
Finest caviar
Being served to
Impatient guests
At an outdoor summer part.
My poetry is more like
Hamburger that has gone
Slightly bad
And only fit
To be slid into the
Garbage can
This time and the next.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Now I wouldn't say that at all. It's very refreshing poetry. Sincerely Ernestine Northover