They said that I must write a verse
About the month of May.
They said that I must write 'Free Verse',
-That rhyming was passe'.
I have no quarrel with free verse
But I can not agree
That wanting for a better name,
They call it 'poetry'.
The black Crow has a strident call
A harsh, unpleasant thing,
But changing what you call the bird
Won't make the black bird sing.
In grace of flight, the Turkey is
A true inferior,
But calling it an Eagle
Will not make your turkey soar!
Just listen to your inner Muse
And not to those 'who know',
For if, in you, a poet dwells,
Your heart will tell you so!
Your rhymes must be a perfect match,
And metered to an art.
If you can't feel your poem's pulse,
Your poem has no heart.
o0o
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem