A/N I don't like this one as much a the others but it is fitting for the start of the anthology
An idea raises its shaking hand,
Bracing to be pounced upon with a stampede of words,
It utters its mumbling thought,
Shaking ever so slightly at the knees.
Suddenly with a Wham,
The idea is bowled over,
Stuck under the pile of fighting words that
Dream of being spilt onto the page.
A selection of words finally get their chance,
To be inked upon the precious paper,
They wait nervously,
Wanting the oppurtunity to prove themselves.
The brain sorts them all out,
Adjectives before nouns,
Similes, metaphors, alliteration
Personification and onomatopoeia.
The brain sits back,
Reads it over, wondering about the order, the flow,
There is still the possibility for those left over,
To have their turn to be printed in glistening ink.
A swap there,
A cross out here, add one over there,
It is done.
Read out loud to express finality.
The disappointed words climb pitifully back into their box,
Hoping that next time
That an idea dares to raise its shaking hand,
They will have better luck.
