I post my poems here because my mother asked me to.
I am not comfortable exposing me to you.
And passing judgment on your poems doesn't seem right.
This confuses me and I'm too tired to fight.
My mother says you want my opinion on your skill.
I suppose I could do that but I don't know if I will.
I don't know you, I have not met your Muse
and you can write what ever way you choose.
In my poetry there's blood and most of it is mine.
I don't really need your direction on what I should refine.
I write it like it happens; I'm the one who was there.
I can not see any reason you should even care.
But my mother thinks I'm pretty, talented and good.
I could tell her different but I don't think I should.
So I put myself out here in hopes that you will see
what my mother sees as beautiful in me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Expertly done, Linda. Nice rhythm and rhymes that contrast nicely with the sentiment of the poem. Excuse me for asking but how old are you? Martin
Born 1946.