Like an uncertain and frightened child
over the seasons, I bloomed into a
determined and prickly bouquet
shallow dreams of popularity were mine
Soon the "in" crowd found poetry quite queer
I was hiding " The Bell Jar" and "Ariel"
from the governing and prominent crowd
I glued my lips shut to rhymes, rhythm and meter
Of course I still wrote, and only showed those
who agreed to a solemn pinky swear promise
they never understood the words (they still don't)
but they know now why I must write
No one jumps for joy, to see my name in print
baby steps along the way to chase a dream
no one to cheer me on, just my pie in the sky wish
Seems now, I'm back to chasing popularity. How ironic.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem