I don't profess to be a poet,
Don't you think that I don't know it.
But I like to lift my pen,
Write some words now and again.
Then try to make some sense of it,
(No don't write that you silly twit) ,
I like it most if my words rhyme,
I try to do it all the time.
I find it hard, I must confess,
My writing pad is in a mess.
All scribbles here and scored out there,
It really is a sad affair.
Trying to get my words wrote down,
My forehead lined with constant frown.
I'm working with a weary brain,
(My brother thinks I am insane) .
But it's better than just sitting
Doing some really boring knitting.
So pen to paper, here I go,
Me! A poet! Don't think so.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very unique and enjoyable to read...left a smile on my face!