It has been a while
Since I have pinned
A verse to suit my style.
There is so much unrest
To cause the Eagle to take
Flight and leave the nest.
The hours are empty and
Days are long and sour with
No peace or hope to take our
Joy in the land of plenty.
I am held captive by an infirmity
Cannot walk nor talk _inspiration
Is encumbered with perspiration
The verse has yet to be written
Since I have been smitten with a
Desire to write a novel worthy of
Contrite appreciation.
Wrote and self-published one book
Take note no one even among my friends and
Family has read maybe they will after
I am planted in the ground dead and
No longer around.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Let me read the book. I promise to keep your secret.