If blood were mud
And milk was silk
We'd all hurt for dirt
And scheme for cream.
If flies were wise
And hills were pills
We'd all hug the bugs
And pop the tops.
If everything was truly something
And anything was nothing
This little rhyme of mine
Would hence make sense.
But free verse can be a curse
In many a witless word heard
When the writer drinks hard-cider
And recalls naught of what he originally thought!
This WAS jolly good rather nonsensical fun...I should try my hand at it too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I was remembering how reading your poems inspires me to... write poems. Then I found this dandy. (Very handy)