Poetry Soup

I dip my spoon into poetry soup, never knowing what I will find, a cute haiku or riveting rhyme, something surely to thrill my mind. Friendly people, willing to praise, even the poorest lines I write, some fresh friends to chat these days, more to add here, I think I might. It’s not as if I love each poem, but there’s always something to chew, so through the meal I eagerly comb, for offerings both lively and new.