The poem came… out of thin air… right there, it came real close…
With wondrous words beyond compare… yet where from, no-one knows…
I sat with my computer on… fixated by the screen,
Before the wondrous words were gone… I typed them while still keen…
Should I have closed my eyes instead… refused to type a word?
No, I began to use my head… with my thoughts clear not blurred.

I placed my focus on each line… each verse I knew must be…
I kept on typing words so fine… they really spoke to me…
I’m not a slave, I’m just a friend… a partner, if you will…
Someone on whom new thoughts depend… to share each noble thrill…
I’m not averse to verse as such… I’m not opposed to prose,
I like each graceful phrase so much… thus my affection grows…

And even now, I’m writing stuff, no-one has typed before,
For poetry I’ve come to love, in fact, I’d like some more!
When inspiration’s far away, I let new poems come,
I wonder what each has to say, to one and all, not some…
And if I sense I’ve played my part, to share something sublime,
I pray to God with thankful heart for every theme and rhyme…

Denis Martindale April 2018.