Time to think,
before putting thoughts to ink.
Can't write,
before words come to sight.
Words are like birds,
thoughts come in first, seconds or thirds.
First thoughts,
may end up second naughts.
Second in mind,
may end up third of a kind.

Reversals of all,
nothing comes to recall,
a blank page appears,
writers block in fears.
The creative process,
starts to regress.
Time to think,
still no words come to ink.

With a pen writing nothing,
the mind wants to write something.
A blank page flies,
on goes the writing tries.
As time passes on,
a full page is born.

Words meaning ace to you,
pass others right on through.
Flying on like birds,
nothing but dead words.
Somewhere in the universe,
a creative curse,
or words of joy,
others enjoy.

G