Your pot of soup, Minute Turkey Pimento,
sullies my oily medicine. Croon a tune of
valor, minus crooning on Jericho.
(Joke’s on me, my Rasta Mullasta.)
My hanky seeks any low vista, linty. I am
a hoyden, your pet teen; just cure it, this
sanest hurt I feel. My oily hair. I am your
automaton, your Conestoga wagon.
Tick it off. Have a view. Is it that I owe you
New Orleans? I lay my cone, Two Oaks Sue.
Joke: I can owe you Japan, sure can walk
you there. But our house? Cooking?
Melting? Joke: I can owe you the casbah.
My hanky seeks a pillow’s view.
NaPoWriMo, Day 16 prompt: Write a poem that attempts to phonetically translate another poem that is written in a language you don’t understand.Here is the poem I used. It’s in Finnish, and it’s by Olli Heikkonen. I’ll post a link at Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. Check that out, if you haven’t already! It’s a big sharefest that happens every Tuesday p.m.