Automatic Verse
T Tom Billsborough
0
Altın Yaprak
The poem writes itself if we but dream,
Ready as the sprinter in his blocks
Awaiting the release, the starting shot,
Taut and primed as we await the theme.
It's off! Oh, what a splendid start..
And now the flow of rhythms and of rhymes
Sweep it onwards to the winning line.
Sometimes this may happen in real life.
A poem comes without a hint of strife.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş