I want my writing to sparkle

and to leap off of the page.

It would disco dance and backflip

‘til my reader was engaged.



Words would visit the thesaurus

and then right before my eyes,

they’d find their super synonym 

and metamorphosise.



To alliteration’s beatboxing,

syllables would bop about,

and while each phrase jigged into place,

punctuation would clap it out.



Whether stressed or laid-back,

words would work out to the beat,

and waltzing pairs of contrasts

would soon form their own conceit.



Different images collide

and find they can compare,

so similes and metaphors

soon glitter in the air.



Sentences would join together

in a lively conga line,

then, by themselves, form perfect

little groups of eight or nine.



My thoughts would throw a ceilidh,

reeling round my reader’s head,

then they’d zoom straight in their ears

and become their thoughts instead.



But some are only meant for me

and when back on Earth again,

my thoughts remain inside my brain

and I haven’t moved my pen.



I wish my writing sparkled,

I wish I didn’t have to think,

I wish the words would do it all themselves

and express my thoughts in ink!