Here’s an old one I just found in a drawer.

Creativity Bottle

If only I could pry the cork
from this Creativity Bottle,
beached on the shores
of laziness.

I’d suck this bottle dry,
gobble down the passion,
create art until I cry, from–

bulging tear ducts:
inkwells waiting till
        all’s well
or
        all’s hell

when words’ll sell me
a free ticket
to poetic paradise:

        immersed in sunny verse
        ocean sounds with crashing nouns
        adjectives align with voluptuous verbs
        pouring through poetic pores

cramming this Creativity Bottle
for the next dear friend
pleading for some inspiration.