When my mind is in a groove

And my words refuse to move

A black pen sits on white page

And ideas will not engage

A different pace required

For neurons to be fired

Must create an idea stew

Where I spoon up words to chew

When a movie line shoots dart

A straight shot into my heart

Or soft strum of a guitar

Stirs up idea bazaar

Or a stroll through local park

Nature show creates a spark

Or I hear some people talk

And my words begin to walk

Now black pen leaves inky trail

As my words begin to wail

Pen and paper capture life

Tales of good times and of strife

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