Sometimes my life does seem to be
A jig jag of confusing prose,
Not flowing like smooth poetry.
I get all tangled up in woes,
And get myself worked up to curse,
Spewing forth words so impolite,
Forgetting that I could well verse
Whatever's wrong into what's right.
I know from past experience
That I just need to take the time
To trade my ire for common sense,
To turn my discord into rhyme.
To find a rhyme for reason on it,
My life, I'll often write a sonnet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem