For too long I’ve withdrawn within these lines
Whined at the enormity of the page
Pondered how best to fill in the blanks
A hunch whispers to me
If I match the correct utensil to the
Appropriate line in a chosen notebook
Writers block will cease to cap my pen
The Melodic movement of stanza development
Lulled by a truly poetic trance,
A prophetic poise to my hand….
the pen is practically possessed
Truth Scerum 