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Stage Fright
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Old Spoonless at the dinner table
Under moonless picnics
In the nocturne now disabled at my touch.
Lyric-stars that blend into a poet-sky
Before they fade and pour from empty ladels
Over mundane blackness and the such.
And so I state in matter-of-factness
The nouns that do envelop
All the stage fright I've developed
When I choose to speak in shades of blue -
The softest hues within me
That accentuate the realest spirits in me.
As I step back in a tremble
And exhale a cloud of all my strengths.
Once a raging passion-orchestra
Turned into distant strings of violins
At every gaze...
And how I wish this night would burn away
Until the candle light was out
And all the wax was slipping off in chunks
Like all my little doubts
And I could sigh relief at windows shut,
Theatres closed,
And spotlights down.
And sit upon the wooden boards
With no more piercing eyes of swords and mumbling sounds.
Curtain shadows cascade all around my likeness
Echoing the mirror battles raging when I write this.
And though I wish to paint for stares from connoiseurs,
I cannot help but lead them on
With wooden palettes scattered with some fake azure
As I press on...
Canvases of blackest sky
Where I do sketch by starkest cry
Remain forever mine.
Solely
Hidden.
All the things I show me
Written
In a homely line
And smitten
By no lookers on
Throughout the time.
But when can I just rest my book upon
Your solemn office chair
Without re-reading prefaces
To know you care?
To know your thoughts divine
On all my lifeless rhymes?
I must be scared
To practice monologues
To a discerning crowd...
