I feel the urge
so I pick up my pen
I don’t know what
line will come when
It will come soon, though
that much I know
Sometimes it comes fast
and sometimes its slow
What is the theme?
How will it flow?
Where will it lead,
and where will it go?
How long will it be?
How will it end?
As I write
I can’t comprehend
I cannot predict
what’s coming through
A compulsion to write
is what I must do
It’s exciting; intriguing,
a blessing to see
I can’t quite believe
it’s coming from me
But where does it come from?
It just seems to unfold
“They write themselves,
these poems”, I’m told
Creative fishing,
poem hooked on a thread
Out in the ether
reel it into my head
This is the process,
so now you can see
These poems inside
are not coming from me
10th June 2021
Paula Caffrey