Sometimes we wait... and wait... and wait
for that sign... or a signal, something,.. anything
to stir our muse, light the blue touch paper.
You take a pen and scribble as fast as possible
incoherent words, hieroglyphics that only you
can understand...a secret language.
You form a picture in your brain, images form
words...then sit and compose them into some
sort of poem, then sit back and...start again...
Rearrange it into a quatern maybe, or try a
tanka, drop a rhyme here and there...sigh
then sigh again….look at it…no.. stare at it
the words come alive they dance and sing.
You re-write, you aim high sometimes they
drop among the paving cracks and trickle
into oblivion, but sometimes...just once
in a while….You reach your target....