Poetry night

pixabay/wordswag

*Just a disclaimer before I tell you about my adventure at the local open mic night:  the poem included within is snarky (even though I’m generally a nice person) and creative fiction, therefore any similarities between actual people/events is purely coincidental.*

I actually did it – I read at an open mic poetry night and not only that, I went first (though going first wasn’t by choice).

I’m not going to lie, I’m not the best public speaker and I was incredibly nervous.  The last time I read something I wrote (in a creative setting) in public was probably 20 years ago….in middle school.

There was a time when I fancied myself a poet.  A lot of crazy things happened during my formative years, and it was during this time that I found my voice as a writer, a lot of it in poetry and a lot more in journaling.

So why did I decide to read after all this time?  After two decades of silence?

After going to a few open mic events to support the arts and a poet friend, the poetry-bug seemed to be nibbling on my arm.  And as I continue to traverse this bumpy path of being a writer, I’ve come to realize that it’s important to get out there, try new things, and meet new people.  The only way to keep creativity flowing is to keep reading, writing, moving, meeting, exploring, and trying.  Plus, I figured  that if I can read poetry to a room full of strangers, surely I can pitch my novel to agents this weekend in NYC…or  at least, that’s my theory. 🙂

As I walked up to the mic, I reminded myself not to trip (I am notoriously clumsy) and as I started to speak, I reminded myself to keep my voice sassy (the poem requires a sassy tone).  When my fingers began to shake, I curled one hand around the microphone and the other around a seashell I got while traveling this year.  Then I took a breath and let the words come…

24, smooth, single, and free
he said hung too, but
that’s all relative, see?
 
Smooth?  Yeah, that’s true.
But 24? Honey, please.
Even with cheaters
you had to deceive.
 
As for hung, well –
that one’s on me.
You’ll say what you will
when your lock wants a key.
 
The things that you say,
compliments you give,
believe me,
I never expected to live –
to see them put down
on a cheap ad for sex,
the same day I took
a pregnancy test.
 
It had to be 24?
The year you gave me a ring?
When I thought myself lucky,
having reeled your ass in.
 
24, smooth, single, and free?
Is that what it meant,
all these years here with me?
 
As for hung, well –
I’m sorry, I lied.
There was so much missing,
I felt empty inside.
 
Tried to gaslight me,
when I asked where you’d been.
Honey, that might be
your greatest sin.
 
24, smooth, single, and free
as for hung, well –
you never could lie quite like me.