Here are my two poems on the subject, which I cannot publish her because they are on LULU, which used to be Poetry.com.
The Writer
by Faye Marie Constantino
Before a blank page I sit, quite daunted.
By scenes of dreamlike specters, I'm haunted.
I try to form the words in my mind,
to instill in the reader the vision in kind.
I want to take you by the hand, and lead you,
To this magical place I've been to...
But I can't seem to find the map or the way,
With hands poised o'er the keyboard I pray.
When my eyes are closed I see their faces,
and when I am not thinking I hear the traces,
of phrases spoken between lovers entwined.
But I ask, should I let them out of my mind?
What repercussions might there be,
if I dare reveal the hidden essence of me?
Will I be ridiculed and mocked?
Should I leave these stories locked
up in the cages of my inner managerie?
Or should I with my magic key,
Open wide the gates and set them free?
Would you still respect me in the morning?
My Art
by Faye M. Constantino
Shall I share my art with you
as I have before been shamed;
Would you laugh and poke fun at me if I do,
Or would I be acclaimed.
My hands do write, but in fright I my best withhold
For art is in the seers eye to test not for the writer to behold.
A quiz I submit then.
Which is more beautiful, the scent of the rose or the sight of an old friend?
Will you see the budding of the tree before it blossoms in the spring, or come home and be surprised by all the flowers?
Do you see some potential in me, or shall I recede into the shadows?
When my muse is in the room and I arise anew,
Will you say "I knew you could fly, if it wasn't for that awful cocoon."
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