Creative juices seem to flow invariably
When I have no time to act on them, you see
When I have ideas, there is no opportunity to save them anywhere
From my short-term memory they drift away, leaving me unaware
That they would not be retrievable on demand
My memory is unreliable, I've come to understand
When I sit down uninterrupted at a time allocated separately
For creative endeavors, I face a mental block inevitably
I cannot recall the ideas that had seemed bright
Staring into empty space, a thought vacuum I fight
Until I give up in frustration, having spent
Precious hours in futility, I cannot help but resent
The unpredictable flow of creativity that requires
The luxury of idle time to get inspired..
*
Sometimes I am blessed with an unexpected burst of creativity
And I am able to act on that golden opportunity
To create something of artistic merit (hopefully)
The exercise never fails to rejuvenate me
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