If poetry be barren babbling of rhymes

Or banal wobbling of ailing lines,

Then let the poet thrust his barren pen

Into the abyss of shame,

And quit the knowledge coven,

For wasting the muse semen in vain.


Let him join the common lips

On the streets, to devour petty tales.

For rhythm without reason is treason

And reason without rhythm is high treason.

Let poet’s rhymes be smeared with honey ocean of meanings,

Let his lyrics wear the garment of theta theme.


Let not banal lines, concocted with babbling syllables

Infect the hungry ears with their parrot rhymes.

For suicidal rhymes are but glass of words

Which shatter on the rock of stray ears.

© Poem by AHOAME Ngutswen Raymond


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