A Blank Page Poem by Monica Engeler

When I look down at a blank page,
I see only white paper and no marks
It waits for my pen to create something
Like a poem or drawing in its final stage.

It’s an adventure waiting to be born.
There are so many ideas to design,
But how to start is always the hard part.
Slowly my pencil scribbles some forms.

Those lines just danced round and round.
This time my views weren’t made of words
But of a sketch of beautiful snow mountains,
With cows and goats marching the grounds.

When I finally finished my illustration,
I framed it, and hung it in my hallway
For all eyes who wished to see my work?
Praise always waits for the artist’s creation.

An artist must present itself for all to see
Not left closed in a portfolio for single eyes
It is a long quest that starts from ones heart
And a clear sheet raises the curtain of dreams.