I longed to be a poet great,
And started growing wings;
I tried to write upon a slate,
Whatever mind, it brings;
To all earthlings
Therefore I wrote, poems till date.
I scribbled fast and turned a muse –
Expert in sonnetting;
I put my heart without excuse,
At times, not editing!
My word-painting
Became an art, for all to use!
I labored hard with simple words,
Those rose from depths of heart;
With wings, I flew like natural birds,
Those soar and glide and dart;
’Tis now an art
Like turning milk to whey, and curds!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 10-13-2013
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem