With nothing to spend
On pen, paper and reading
And publication,
You keep posting,
Uploading
And downloading,
All your rhymes
And broken stanzas
To be called poetry
And you a poet,
A great poet
Even if your are not,
Go on trying,
Go on trying
Without even being
A B.A.,
An old matric too
Will do,
Britsh-period medallion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem