Ideas (half-baked) which used to glow
With an inner promise of beauty
When turned around and placed
With their feet on the ground
Dissolved into the dust of the brain
Tossed into the gutter, with rain pattering
against their feeble souls, their ink washed away
And running down the drain
Scrapped and thrown to the side like wrapping paper
on Christmas Afternoon
Undercooked thoughts
Have a dreadful fate.
“Great minds disuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.”
-Eleanor Roosevelt
“If you stuff yourself full of poems, essays, plays, stories, novels, films, comic strips, magazines, music, you automatically explode every morning like Old Faithful. I have never had a dry spell in my life, mainly because I feed myself well, to the point of bursting. I wake early and hear my morning voices leaping around in my head like jumping beans. I get out of bed quickly, to trap them before they escape.”
-Ray Bradbury
littlewordworm 