Prolific writing
Streams of thought
Trickle from my swollen brain
Fingers punching
At the keyboard,
Some must think
That I’m insane
Filling up this worded
Window, floating above
The cluttered pane,
Perched here in the dark
And writing,
Surely I must be
Insane.
Writing here, I’m
Always writing, surely
Now I know the game,
So I think I’ll go
And put on Bowie
And listen to
A lad insane.
This reminds me of someone I can touch with a very short stick.....Me ya gatta ten Hugs Jan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
yes sandra i love to write poems to music myself, i dont know wether you are just punching the keyboard on your computer with this one though, it is a simple piece but well put together Warm regards allan