I wonder what the chances are
That I’ll write another poem tonight?
Will the words come to my Mind?
Will the Rhymes and Scans be right?
Why must I want to write
In every waking minute?
And never put my pen aside,
Even though my heart aint in it.
I have more thoughts, ideas and plans,
But into verse they will not go,
Unless I think and plan again,
And take my lines real slow.
I agonise on what I’ve writ,
I hope that it’ll make sense,
But, as I read my previous lines,
I hope I’ll find the words to end.
The agony that this Poet feels,
As his poem comes to the fore,
Happens to some Poets at times,
And to others, more and more.
© Yisroel Yonatan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 22 November 2005
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem