Heart beats and fingers press,
Music resounds- the keys I caress.
A burning sensation I do discover,
In my dark-pitted stomach- all is a blunder.

A shaky arm and even shakier brush,
A confident vision, but hands in a rush.
One fell swoop and colors swirled wrong,
White canvas returned- it was white all along!

Knees turned out, but not far enough,
One twirl- I’m down… the landing is rough.
For a night- beauty captured the stage,
All but the one, displaced at any wage.

Fumbling lines- the words all garbled,
I wanted the lights and the audience to marvel.
Through half of speech- so long and so loud!
Second half lost… silence- tough crowd.

In books and poems, I write to disappear,
No room for mistake in any place but here.
I paint and fall and play and yell,
You laugh but it’s I with stories to tell.

Dominique Lorraine

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/with-stories-to-tell/