Poet'excess......

Sometimes my mind is like a bag of white flour
Dusty, drab, messy, pulverized...
Nothing happens and it vacations  in its cranium.. just waiting,
Waiting ,for something to move and inspire it…
But at times it abruptly rekindles, becomes resuscitated and invigorated
And  then it’s  insuppressible,  ebullient and unconstrained.
So starts the steady stream of words on paper….
 
Pouring out totally unrestrained, producing  work after work…..
Hieroglyphics scrawled across the page, with the hope the words
have a kinship with sense and understanding…
I have to keep churning whilst the kindling’s still burning,
‘The moving finger writes’ and knows no end my friend,
until exhausted the cranial pundit grinds to a halt
and reverts to its mill like process  once again…ready to bake bread once more…