When this budding poet wakes in morn,
His words do turn to verse,
The lines on paper he does write,
Which go 'from bad to worse.'
Try, as he must to make much sense
Of his thoughts that come to mind,
His words do pour from out his brain
On to paper but, be kind.
For often his poems into verse go,
Without much work or thought,
But at other times he finds it hard,
When 'Poet's Block' comes to the fore,
And he must wait a while
Before he can write anymore.
Copyright © Jonathan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 5 January 2004
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem