August 11, 2009


The bravest thing I’ve ever done
Was show my words to someone else.
From long hard birth upon the page,
Would they understand and know my heart?
Then when praise was not forthcoming,
Grave doubts of who I am crept in.
Are my thoughts just dull and boring tracts,
And show the world my ignorance?
But I should know, there is no need
For confirmation of my work,
The greatest gift to give myself
Is just enjoyment of my craft.

1 comment:

  1. Cynthia, I like this poem and its honesty. I agree that first you must be able to write for yourself. The hardest thing for me is to remember this. Of course, a little muse would be nice. And I found that physically showing a poem to someone is a lot different than posting one.