Beginning Blues

Started to write copy
over cups of hot coffee.
But it was a waste of paper
as thinking went for a sixer.

Then all of a sudden
thoughts came in a torrent.
But with a broken pen,
the words went unwritten.

When at last the pen was found,
the thoughts did not rebound,
only did my temples pound,
because of the generator's sound.

When at last I did write
it was nothing very bright,
but what I thought right,
duly put out of sight.