Writing Poetry-My Process Poem by amar qamar

Empty pages glare at me
Bright white sheets stare back mockingly
Snuggled away in my den
Thinking constantly about what to pen
Hoping a good idea would pop into my head
Useless ideas pop up instead
Just static in my mind, drawing a blank
Running on fumes from an empty tank
A slight glimmer, an idea seems to sprout
Eureka! My mind seems to shout
I start to write down, feel a little tense
I look down at my work, it doesn't make sense
Have to twist and turn a sentence here and a word
Like trying to coral a unruly herd
Now I am ready to commence
The words start flowing like a flood
As if a flower is starting to bud
I scribble away, for what seems like hours
Until I have lines of rhymes soaring like towers
Pleased with what I have? No just yet
Have to leave it alone, the paint is still wet
I come back days later, and read what I have penned
A few mistakes, sounds weird, it's not the end
Chop and change, add new lines here and there
Exaggerate some words and add a little flair
Now it is ready for all to see
Hope it is good, for the people will judge