The bad poet

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I’m a bad poet:

My inner “genius” said:
“Grbdsh, dshdhash, ghghakh!”
I couldn’t translate it.

I saw crows
Shadowing the midday moon,
Unwashed kids,
Playing with green soldiers
In front of contemporary art gallery:
I couldn’t find the connection.

I’m bad:

A bad storyteller,
Who doesn’t keep the storyline:
My coffee is strong,
And my socks don’t smell
Anymore.

I’m a very, very, very bad poet:
Just proud to be
The worst one.

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Թողնել պատասխան

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