Ink Spilled Doubts
An abecedarian poem for all the struggling artists
Arts.
Brilliance and beauty made to be
Consumed by all, yet inevitably
Doomed to fall.
Enshrouding the broken and unspoken
Founders: The Artists, The Actors, The Authors.
God's messengers, yet the devil's passengers whom
Hide behind Hannya
In broad daylight,
Juxtaposing what is right - for you see,
Knowledge and talent and
Labour of love,
Mean naught for any guarantee;
No name, nor fame, not within a game against
Opponents in the pockets of those in
Power. You are left to
Question your worth and right to continue
Returning to this fight, when all around you all you
See, are the young and
Talented carefree hoarding accolade after accolade, whilst here,
Uncapturable little old me works and fights and slaves away in
Vein, unable to obtain anything to my name - and really - is it
Worth the pain, when there's little to no monetary gain? - In defiance,
Xenial words, with venial truths, whisper in my ear:
Yes. Your work is worth the fight, be it brush, script or pen, the arts will always be - your
Zen.
About the Creator
Megan Kingsbury
Author 📝and voice actor 🎤 by day
Animation 🎬 fanatic by night
Cosplayer 🖌️🪡 all the way in between
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More stories from Megan Kingsbury and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Light Turns
It's Tuesday 7:13 a.m. A cold and clear November morning awaits Ray on his morning commute. Ray rubs his hands together in the front seat of his Subaru. He turns the air temperature up, but keeps the air on low until the air warms up. He looks at the backup camera screen and reverses the Subaru out of his driveway onto Trimble Road.
By John R. Godwin4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Beautiful! It really captures the essence of writing and just how much it is a release, even when it can feel like it's a struggle. Always worth the fight! Love the structure too.