Overcoming fear as a poet was an exercise in overcoming Shakespeare and Dante. These poets have done so much in structure, rhyme and grand scheme that poetry has a certain air of nobility in my mind. Who but those with all the food and shelter that could ever be given a person, find time, energy, and mentality to come out with such carefully, cleanly, and magnificently presented words? And the alternative. Who but the brokest, least-to-losingest, starving artists, find the time, the energy and mentality to write poetry?
What did I do to overcome? I realized that poetry can be found in the middle. For the likes of me, with neither great poverty nor terrible nobility, I assured myself that I could put out a poem. Then I wrote.