The Art Garden Was Swinging

Day 21 of Na/GloPoWriMo  2020, has the optional prompt of taking a bit of poetry in a foreign language and based on the sound of the lines themselves attempting to write a poem of some sort even if it becomes nonsense.  I fear that Dutch sounds elude me.  Still here’s my attempt:

The Rusty Nail - Spring Garden Wrought Cycle

The Art Garden Was Swinging
by Michael Doyle 
Second column abstract

Rook was een van de laatste verhalen van deze zomer.

Ik heb de rokers toegeknikt, op hen gedronken
    zittend aan een tafeltje
    onder een snijdende rook.

Wolken zijn er ook genoeg
    maar altijd wenkt
    wie door de rook daar staat
    om mij aan tafel te zien zitten
    bezig hem te roepen.

Dan het hotel herkennen aan de sleutel
    en aan de sleutel 
    het vertrek?

Die met de antwoorden zwijgen.


Becomes this feeble attempt:

Rock was as it can be lost in valleys of dizzy zones.

We had the rockers tonight, hop in the garden
Fitting as they ate taffy and jelly
Wondering still pretending to rock

Walking in their own gangs
Mirroring attitudes of winks
When the door of rock is the start
Onward in travel to seeing kittens
The thing is to reopen

Then the hotel workers won't tell
What they could tell
At the track

The Met and the art garden were swinging

(c) April 21 2020  Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved

Love Home & Gardens - My Favorite Love Bug




About alohapromisesforever

Writer, poet, musician, surfer, father of two princesses.
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