Writing a Poem

No word on the screen of my computer at the desk,
trying to pull my words from the well of fantasy.

I have several things in my palms, my favourite words,
pick them up, one by one,
trying to find suitable fellows for me today.

Sake-makers polish rice before they brew,
some days twenty per cent, other times seventy per cent.
Refining materials brings better taste,
but it doesn’t mean as healthy as before.

And also,
I like the noise of old gramophone records, too.

How much should I revise my things?
How many layers should I peel my little onions?

The words could be the treasure for some people,
whilst might be poisonous for the others.

I have some phrases on my page,
who start shaking themselves there,
being excited to be shipped towards the world.

Now, they’re all loaded, ready to go,
they’ll not belong to me anymore soon,
and looking forward to being exposed to you all!