A Poem Like Pony
I remain awake at night
And I walk the whole day
In the field of ideas
I pick them in abundance
Write them like reaping crop
Yet nothing comes up as I desire
On the page I rub
The marks of scratch are everywhere
Step of thoughts fall pattering like the leaves
Of an old oak tree of the autumn
The ground is full and covered fully
With words yellow
And turning the colour white into black
Like a failed crop of winter
The pods I get but inside I find no grain
I engage to search in the heap
I come up with a design
And I draw something with intense attention
Again the picture appears hazy
In no way I am getting the poem
For so long I want to bring up
The poem I want is like a pony
On her back I wish to ride
And like an explorer travel the whole world
Peaks and bottoms
Pits and gorges where
Nature has kept her treasure of satisfaction
In a box wonder
Covered with flabbergasting astonishment
Whole night I remain awake
Whole day I keep walking for a single poem
By which I can ride the coming world like a wise man.
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