A poem by the Norwegian Olav Bull

A struck-through poem

Caged-in, a shoddy poem

from bars of strokes peers out.

Honest enough a fellow,

though hardly round and mellow

with song and tuneful clout.

Spawned by a skinny mother

a wizened brain its womb,

mere scraps of thought the fodder

that brain cells had on offer,

in meagre hours consumed – –.

And reason’s fearful migraines

the poem’s body rack –

by fever now prostrated

cracked lips reel off unsated

their ugly tuneless track.

Its bars of strokes it rattles,

its cruel cage it would force; –

it is my direst captive

though songs well-formed, attractive

through my whole being course.