Artistic Insecurity
An editor of Twig, I was
The least accomplished one.
I hadn’t taken art for years
Like most of them had done.
The “Head-itor” took care of most
Responsibilities.
She gave us fifty pages each.
Back then, I was at ease.
The moment that I started spreads,
I found myself quite stuck.
I looked through older yearbooks, but
I wasn’t quite in luck.
Some photos looked a bit washed out,
And fonts were not much better.
With ruthless eyes, I scrutinized
Each page down to the letter.
“Oh crap!” I said, forgetting that
I’d come for inspiration.
I feared my spreads would be assessed
With equal condemnation.
I searched non-stop for perfect fonts,
Spent hours on grayscaling,
I hadn’t finished half my work,
But deadlines were approaching.
“That’s it!” I said, “That’s quite enough,
You’re being such a child.
Creative insecurity
Made lateness yours go wild .”
And thus I pledged to cast away
My green mentality.
I forced myself to believe once more.
In my ability.
This incident made me become
A Carol two-point-oh
Who’s confident in all she does
And lollygags no more.
Copyright © Kimura Kundera | Year Posted 2014
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