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Imagine little Markus there,
Anointed by the Lord,
To write new thoughts beyond compare
That rhyme with sweet accord.
Such that he counts the syllables,
8-6-8-6 each verse,
When he composes miracles,
His wise thoughts to disperse.
I envy that his heart's so blessed,
I've written thousands, too,
But shall I ever beat the best?
And that, Markus, is YOU!
Your standards thrash me every time,
Your rhythms oh so deep,
I'm always thinking of a rhyme,
Yet end up all a heap.
I won't give up and won't give in,
I'll write rhymes every day,
If there's one chance that I can win,
I'll even fast and pray!
You're just too good! Can I compete?
Will editing enhance?
I know that you're the one to beat,
Yet do I stand a chance?
But must I write three thousand more,
To match your height of fame?
You see, most poets folks ignore!
I'm Denis Wossisname!
Denis Martindale February 2021.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem