Society dragged me aside to let me know,
I have childish notions of being an artist,
A foolish path,
Ludicrous wants and ideas,
Plans of a dunce,
Or so am I led to believe,
Am I just pretending?
An impostor,
Doing the motions without understanding?
Wearing my silly apron,
With my silly pen,
Writing my silly little words,
When I string together webs of emotion,
Am I a creator?
When I put words to paper,
Am I a writer?
When I brush colour on to parchment,
Am I a painter?
I don’t know the truth of it,
Perhaps I do sully the name of wordsmith,
Playing at artistry,
Wearing a mask of competence,
Though I shake behind it,
Perhaps I am just pretending after all.
WorldofHarley 
“We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.”― Ernest Hemingway. Your poem reminds me of the truism in Hemmingway’s quote. Great poem. I loved💖 the references to how other art forms illustrate the poetic art form. Cheers
Oh, thank you so much. That is a really big compliment to me. ❤️
The Oldschool Harlequin
My pleasure 😊👍
This reminds me a lot of a poem in my first book of poems. I very much relate ♥
That sounds fascinating. 😊 Thank you very much!
The Oldschool Harlequin
Oh my, how cute 🥰
Haha, thank you kindly!
The Oldschool Harlequin
Deep, I’d say no, you ain’t pretending.
That is very kind of you to say my friend. ☺️
The Oldschool Harlequin
Throw away your doubts!
I’m trying, trust me!
The Oldschool Harlequin
Beautiful! ❤ ❤ ❤
Thank you so much! ❤️
The Oldschool Harlequin
Hmm. You write each day…..therefore you are a writer. Kick the inner critic who cries imposter to the curb and keep creating. You define you. Keep going.
I try to ignore him, but he tends to find new and fantastical ways to harangue me. 😒
The Oldschool Harlequin