I guess I don't know when a poem is done,
There's no bell that goes off, no starter's gun
Which signals to me a new poem's begun.
Although it may feel like a poem I've left,
I'm still never sure, maybe in a dark cleft
Of my soul, a neglected thought cries, bereft.
My poem, my child, to it I've a duty,
To not chose just one because it's a cutie,
Or elevate one whose airs are too snooty.
A poem once true, it still had the right stuff,
To me it had value in times that were tough,
It is part of my past and that is enough.
A poem still true, well there's a small matter
Of pride to attend to, forget the chatter,
It's just part of my mind's endless clatter.
A poem once written is life I have saved,
And saving it, Your path to others I've paved
That might have just died by darkness enslaved.
Lord understand, I don't always feel stronger,
Live in fear, Your words won't come any longer.
This body of mine, it's not any younger.
Imperfect, I know that I'm daily sinning
But perfection is not Your take on winning,
Please forgive me thru this drama I'm spinning,
My perfection lies in readers You send me
My strength is revealed in weakness that all see
At last, in Your service, my soul truly free.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem