Prolific ? Poem by J.B. LeBuert

Poems won't stop coming out of me?
I never even liked poetry.
I'm not complaining, it's easy to start.
It seems pure, and comes from my heart.

I don't know what's going on?
It just pours out, when I sit down.
Put pen in hand and the words arrive.
I'll write many poems, if I survive?

This is so strange, it's a mystery;
Never happened before, in my history.
I hope you enjoy my words for today,
If not, I know, there's more coming your way.