Nervous Poet:

My pen to me is what a paint brush

is to a painter,

my poetry book sits blank,waiting to be used,

so many idea's to be written down,

I can't pick.....

I stare confused.

I stand back and stare,

My hands shake.....

I'm anixous....

I hesitate before this canvas.

Steady now.....

I take a deep breath,

compose myself,

I pick up my pen and begin to write.