It is a well-known fact that Poems often come to you when you least expect them to. Creeping up on you unexpectedly and demanding to be committed to paper. Generally I find it is times such as the middle of the night when you wish anything but to be writing a poem that they pounce on you.
Indeed people themselves often cause that poetic gene to start twitching. A funny walk, a way of being, something someone says or purely the observation of personal behaviours can all initiate a burbling mound of words and phrases to fire those patterns of language and away you go on a journey of adventure and creation. The poem is born.