Sixteen eight eight to seventeen four four
are the stuttering dates
of proto-Surrealist poet Pope
who rhymed present 'read'
with 'aching head'
and confused his audience
with a heed that aches.
Cachepots can be potcaches;
potheads do foolish things;
so, archaically, was said,
did cakes.
(As there's no 'Arbuthnot'
at the end of a line
in the body of
'An Epistle To Dr Arbuthnot',
we know not
if 'Arbuthnot'
rhymes with 'know'
or 'not'.)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow unique and sublime, great rhyming too. I can see a play on words n puns like. Thumbs up. So Nice to read from your pen again, I hope u too will review my latest poem titled, 'For all cheese chums'