What Level Have I Reached - A poem of self-doubt.

There is now way I'm a pro,
not at this point in my life.
Writing is still a time-eating monster
that crawls out from under the rocks,
where I live and sleep most times,
to grab me with its broken fangs.
Revenge for using power tools when editing?

This is something I still am learning.
The stringing together of words and thoughts,
to convey where I am, my dreams,
not to mention the nightmares stalking me
as I wander the streets and libraries,
seeking a way out of my situation.
To a better life, sooner I hope.

Yet, am I still a rank amateur?
Untested by a paying byline, accepted submission
or attempt at the larger elusive game
called a book deal or story serialization?
Two poems seeing ink leave me questioning
whether to keep trying other writing ventures
or stay with what worked to date.

Semi-pro? Professional? Aspiring Writer? Or Dabbler?
Which is the title I truly deserve
at this point in my writing path?
Or is there something else floating around
to hang my hat and pride upon?
This is where I walk about now,
that place of indecision, crossroads of choice.

Poet? Author? Writer? A Storyteller? Something else?
Who knows which way I may head,
when the writing begins to pour out,
fingers dancing across these wearing out keys,
as I kill time between job applications.
Which way should I turn? I ask,
but my reflection refuses to give answer.

Things I enjoyed, now turning into chores,
yet I seem to improve each time.
I will always have the tales within
seeking release in some strange, painful way,
so I choose to press onwards, if cautious.
Seen pride take too many down fast
and God knows I am a klutz...

..prone to missteps even when walking about,
let alone when venturing into uncharted places
where your feet have no purpose treading,
let alone even existing amid stray thoughts
that seek release and semi-permanent recording
upon the dance of electrons moving quickly
along this network so very fragile.

Hell, who cares? The stories pile up,
carving their way out of my skull,
creating canyons in my head if dammed,
so open the sluice gates, releasing them
seems my only option for sanity's sake.
I will continue with this venture,
but will I step beyond? Not sure.

God may know, but He likes surprises.
18April2013 - Dyfedd Rex