I walked out of the din,
wandered into the yard.
I never thought performing
would be so damned hard.
The audience was small.
So why did I run?
Because sharing from your heart
is easier with one.
My thoughts became words,
“It’s not meant to be.”
Then hundreds of voices croaked,
“We disagree.”
I looked all around,
as I stood ‘neath the stars.
Listening to frogs
and the low hum of cars.
The grass was my stage,
the night sky my ceiling.
The venue was gorgeous.
What a wondrous feeling.
Lightning bugs ignited,
flashed, and waved about,
a tiny crowd of thousands.
At once, I lost all doubt.
Relaxed, I started, to recite
the poem I’d rehearsed.
I didn’t miss a single beat,
not a syllable, word, or verse.
My heart it gathered strength
from all my little fans.
A reminder on that fateful night,
though mice and men have plans,
things may not be perfect,
like they were, out there, that night.
Sometimes it’ll come easy,
and other days I’ll fight.
You may ask me, how’d it go,
out back within the thicket?
At my first poetry night,
the applause was not but crickets.
~ elr
NOTE: The section of this poem, which reads “A reminder on that fateful night, though mice and men have plans, things may not be perfect…” is a jumbled reference to Robert Burns’ poem To a Mouse in which he created the well know phrase, “The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men.”
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