My paper is an easel

My brush is my pen,

I create poems in rhythm,

A Mozart within.

My mind's a blank canvas

Which roars like the sea,

Words flow as if  magic

And spill out through me.

Sometimes they go smoothly

Still waters I've seen,

Sometimes I can't keep up

Like scenes in a dream.

Free verse, haiku, limerick

Not just one certain kind,

Fill my thoughts like a painting

Rapidly in my mind.

Each night I must write them down

To limit what I think,

It I did not, I'd paint all night

And wouldn't sleep a wink.