When I click the mouse in my palm
there is the flickering on the screen.
The arrow dashes to the letter-shaped icon
to open the mailbox, a treasure box of mine.
How different this mailbox is
from what I knew in my youth!
I circle around the long-waited mails
which arrived on-line from afar.
In bass they sing the songs of globe.
In the blank margin, too
Countless words unwritten to startle me so!
We all came to realize what it was like to "play with words" after sharing the poems forged out of the blunt-looking lists. Nobody asked the artistic value nor criticized the defects in the form of what we wrote. Very naively, we were amazed at the work of our brain; its work of association and inspiration generated even from the given few words. Like school children, we enjoyed playing with words, which we found was the starting point of all poetry writing. We write because it is nothing but a joy!