first hand random thought
has virgin purity alluring fresh
sculptural potential appeal
while overthought overworked
lines stick in stuck dry parched throat
writers poets thirst crave care
more for fleet moment than perpetuity
elixir is champagne bubbling or rum
spirit refreshed drunk swims in words
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem