Words are things

  And a small drop of ink

 Falling like dew upon a thought,  

 Produces that which makes thousands,

   Perhaps millions, think.

 -Lord Byron





Piled thoughts

I kindle daily

With word matches


Flares and embers

Rising thereof

Find own marks


Glow will dissipate

Darkness in some

Heat warming few


In a garden thoughts

Morning mist words

Animate thoughts perkily


Ink flows, dancing to tune

Of aligned newborn words

Weaned from thoughts’ womb



Tell us your thoughts