Sometimes the mind
boils, bubbling,
Yet flavourless, as
water.
Perhaps a conceit or
concept
Will seethe for days
- or moments.
Maybe the stock will
be savoury:
Maybe insipid and
thin.
Adding the garnish -
rhythm and styles -
Should make poem; or
verse,
But no ingredients
disguise
A poor stock.
Here it is now -
reader,
Is this to your
taste?
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I'm glad to hear how this strikes you!