For rhymes, I counts me syllables,
I counts them line-by-line,
While watching as a new verse falls
According to design...
At times, me words are oh so cute,
That's not always the case,
I counts on words and hopes they suit,
Yet sometimes I replace...
For thoughts, I pictures what I wrote
Then I waits for the rest,
Each new thought comes and I takes note,
Determined to be blessed...
I dreams as well, then wakes up quick
And writes down what I saw,
Such that me golden ideas click
And suddenly outpour...
For all I knows, I strikes a chord,
But that's not guaranteed,
Financially there's small reward,
Yet onwards I proceed...
I does me best, gives all I got,
8,6,8,6 guides me,
While not a lot, each helps me plot
Me perfect poetry...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem