Jumbled words inside my head,
collected from the books Ive read.
Paper sheets by the millions,
vowels and consonants by the trillions.
Pictures, letters so absurd,
each dot and slash and every word.
Flash before me has I write,
I see them all in black and white.
Both a comfort and a fright,
sensory of my delight.
If I don't read how can I write,
words with pleasing letters?
But if I read when will I write,
and make my poems better?
saint cynosure ( Ken Bennight )
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-read-or-write/
