Some poetry reveals too many secrets;
Some stories tell too many sordid tales;
Some songs sing harmonies that should be hidden;
Some rhymes just take themselves beyond the pale.
Some lyrics hold too hard and deep a feeling;
Some writing states too clearly what is so;
Some letters leave us no ambiguous meaning;
Some titles tell what others must not know.
Some comments choose no euphemistic short cuts;
Some messages contain too harsh a bite;
Some lines, sore-thumbed, stand out too sharp and clearly;
Some verbal fireworks shine a tad too bright.
And when the poet wants to wax too candid;
And when he scribes what’s really out to shock;
He wants the point to break off from his pencil;
He wishes that he did have writer’s block.
But there are other stops upon the journey
When words won’t throw themselves upon the page,
When eloquence departs in hackneyed clichés,
When writing’s just a chore that takes an age.
Some poetry is merely understatement;
Some stories never seem to come out right;
Some songs just drone along in mad meanders;
Some rhymes are simply forced and sound so trite.
Some lyrics have no impact on the memory;
Some writing is too spidery and dim;
Some letters make no sense when they are studied;
Some titles are too tedious and grim.
Some comments always seem to miss their target;
Some messages are really off the mark;
Some lines just weakly wobble, blur and waver;
Some verbal fireworks fade and spill their spark.
And so I iterate my hard dilemma:
Which words to ditch? Which other ones to use?
Is this too deep or is this much too trivial?
I think I’ll just let you, my reader, choose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem