Closer to the Heart

Daily Post asked:

-“You’re asked to recite a poem (or song lyrics) from memory — what’s the first one that comes to mind? Does it have a special meaning, or is there another reason it has stayed, intact, in your mind?”-


This is a story, of my first poetry reading:

-“I once sat going out of my mind,
my interesting fantasy worlds I’d find,
but it sucked I was broke,
I could hire no bloke,
so I could find no actors to sign.”-

These are the words to an older poem I wrote, The Reasons Why I Write (With Creative Answers).  It is posted here, if interested,

This poem, has always been of value to me; for it was the first spoken word poem I ever performed.

I had always held interest in written poetry, but it wasn’t until about a year or so ago, that I had taken an interest in spoken word.

I had watched countless poets on the internet, and had been to a  few poetry slams, just to simply observe. The talent was phenomenal, I assure you!

One night a few months back, I heard over social media, of an open mic poetry night at a local downtown café.

I had attended the event with one of my friends, whom, about an hour into the event, had talked me into finally, “getting my arse up on the stage” instead of merely observing from my chair

I hurriedly scribbled down in my notebook, one of the few poems of mine I had committed to memory.

I raised my hand during the last call rather enthusiastically, and strolled my way up to the stage.

I took hold of the microphone, or attempted to….. as unfortunately, the last poet had been very, very tall.

I called off to the side of the stage, “excuse me, could you please tell me how to adjust this thing? I am rather short.”

Continuing on, I knew that my stage ability likely lagged behind the ability of the previous poets. Did I feel compelled to hide that fact? I did not. In fact, I decided to let everyone know, exactly what catastrophic, walking tornado of words they were in for.

“Let the record show,” I began “I am likely the biggest noob in this room! It has been a really long time since I have held a microphone, so bear with me.”

Chuckles had arisen from the audience. I reached deep down inside me in the endless span of 3.2 seconds, looking for that confident stage persona that I would have to manufacture in a micro-second.

In retrospect, I couldn’t say why I was so nervous. I have learned that I have a talent of hiding my shaking hands, by waving them around in a series of complimentary hand motions.

I have been told by some that watching me was just as entertaining as listening.

“Thank you for allowing me to perform tonight, as I likely am only half as talented as the rest of you!”

More laughter…. (Although I was only half-joking).

“People usually ask me, why it is I write. Now, that is a very long, dark and complicated answer. So, to conserve time and to keep a light mood in friendly conversation, I usually devise some more….. creative answers.”

I couldn’t believe I had been able to go so long without screwing up anything I planned to say.

I looked to my friend at the back as I theatrically yelled my next sentence.

“I have composed today, a limerick!”

At this point, the face of my friend burst out into silent laughter as he buried his face in his hand. (Perhaps I should have told him what I was performing?)

I presented, with a smile on my face, a mix of laughter and nervousness. Five short lines later, I had to contemplate whether I actually had anything else to present. A short moment later, I remembered my shocking amounts of organization.

So, with that, I thanked the audience, and with a bow and a jump from the stage, I strolled back to my seat to the surprising sound of applause.

I was really, and truly, quite amazed.

And better yet, I didn’t screw up at any point on stage.

Upon arrival back at my table, my still laughing friend punched me in the shoulder, and heartily thundered, “really, a limerick? Really?”

Yes, I really did a limerick at my first poetry reading. It was a great experience, and I have been hooked on watching and performing spoken word since.

Performance has gotten easier, and the stage persona within is now shackled with a cow-bell so I know where to find it.

And I shall continue to have the words to that poem, emblazoned on the back of my mind, until the day that I die, or the day I end up forgetting it…… However, I haven’t planned that far ahead, so lets just say it’s going to be close to the heart for as long as possible.

2 responses to “Closer to the Heart

  1. Pingback: Poem / Poetry – “Hot Little Biscuit” | toofulltowrite (I've started so I'll finish)

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