Trickle Down Poem by Ariana Spencer Thoughts and ideas flicker through my mind like sparklers in the night. Words trickle down from somewhere inside me, tumbling briskly out onto paper or a screen, demanding to be written before they’re forgotten. Letters fly from my fingertips, falling falling rapidly into sentences or maybe fragments, desperate to exist, to fall into place. Thoughts may be trapped in my mouth, but they find their way out through my hands at a frantic pace. Sometimes I swear I see the words burning themselves into paper, like a fiery haze of creativity. My mind works to keep up with my hands, while letters keep spilling out in waves. My brain is on fire with words both tough and beautiful. If the words get too real or scary, there may be tears staining the paper or keyboard, but beware, when the exhilarating words gain momentum, they race each other, trying to stay in a neat line. Ink soaks up my thoughts and emotions, turns them into something grand. Language is special, it’s a vehicle of expression, and I’m the driver, delivering words where they should go. Words embed themselves in my heart, and trickle down, all the way to my soul.
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