Blank Poem by Paul Fowler

Sitting here looking at a blank page,
Don't I have anything I want to say?
Is there no flash of inspiration?
To help me get started on this day.  

It's been a while since the ideas flowed,
Ideas came at me from every direction,
And start to finish I'd write the words down,
Without the need for any correction.  

I wonder sometimes how they did it,
Prolific writers like Wordsworth or Keats,
Did they have the same problems as I?
When volumes of words they'd complete.  

So here I sit staring at this blank page,
Knowing that I just can't give up,
Maybe as an exercise to get me started,
I'll write a poem about my coffee cup.