Why do I try to make them fit the line,
The words that flop along like broken chains?
No matter what I try thereís one foot that remains
And adds an extra vertebra to its spine.
Oh, why do I keep searching for a rhyme
When, trained to parse another speech, my brains
Canít even hear what vowel a word contains
And the sounds all fail to other ears than mine?
If I had any wisdom Iíd decline
To undergo these horrid mental strains
Whose end is to turn thoughts into ink stains:
All I can do in verses is to whine -
And yet I am not willing to forego it.
I donít know why. They should have sent a poet.
Harmke van Dijk
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Harmke van Dijk
be pleased to hear them.