RAPPING

A blank piece of paper,
A pencil or pen:
A thought in my mind
Jumped out at me when
I least had expected
A sentence to form.
I can tell that it isn’t
My habit, or norm.
It’s like waiting to see
What my inner self brings
To my outer, my conscious.
I’m passive. It flings
Thoughts at me hoping
That I put them down
Trusting, that I find
The right phrase, or noun.
It’s a little like rapping
I’m sure you can see
In the way I feel happy,
Creative and free.