I can not imagine a world without the beautiful sounds of poetry. This sonnet sums up the way in which it happens for me.
The tap in my mind incessantly drips Some fresh words which spill on to the paper. From my quiet repose, an idea slips And, taking shape, it begins to taper Into lines of verse, a comforting sound Suffusing the mind. It hurries along With rhythm and rhyme, within and around The place in daily life where thoughts belong. They nestle warmly in comfort and peace, Ideas growing into varied verse Whose words will bring a poetic release; Then in a breath, they begin to disperse. I cherish the gift so clearly defined, Expressing in words the thoughts of the mind.
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