To my angel (you know who you are),
Silence is golden, liberating & lonely;
the latter is the most haunting.
To my angel (for whom silence seems a new word),
I was (am) content, satisfied, & appreciative
to hide in the rarity of reciprocal visits.
My dear sweet angel, thank you for carrying my voice through the doors.
Last Call (At the Sidewalk Cafe)
anxiety spikes
(unusually so as of late)
each time Mr. Linky
steps up to introduce me.
he looks at the note card in hand
announcing the next performer
and knowingly looks stage left.
the last time these spells arose
I disappeared – left – went into hiding.
scarcely a word escaped
leaving only silence in my wake.
upon return I waited for last call –
closing time, when most had come & gone.
leaving only a few stragglers to see my frays.
how brazen I got
as time passed and words flowed;
it's like a roller coaster though – ups & downs –
but those drops lift me out of my seat.
so here I sit now at the sidewalk cafe
listening to the voices spill out the doors &
tip my hat as they leave for the night.
& I scribble away in my notebook
for no one else but me
and the occasional passerby
who sits down with a smile to share.
Last Call (At the Sidewalk Cafe)
anxiety spikes
(unusually so as of late)
each time Mr. Linky
steps up to introduce me.
he looks at the note card in hand
announcing the next performer
and knowingly looks stage left.
the last time these spells arose
I disappeared – left – went into hiding.
scarcely a word escaped
leaving only silence in my wake.
upon return I waited for last call –
closing time, when most had come & gone.
leaving only a few stragglers to see my frays.
how brazen I got
as time passed and words flowed;
it's like a roller coaster though – ups & downs –
but those drops lift me out of my seat.
so here I sit now at the sidewalk cafe
listening to the voices spill out the doors &
tip my hat as they leave for the night.
& I scribble away in my notebook
for no one else but me
and the occasional passerby
who sits down with a smile to share.
another silent contribution....
they'll be opening up the doors over at the dVerse Poets Pub at 3:00 pm (EST), so if you get a chance to stop in, check out some wonderful talents showcasing their voices today and tomorrow.
i got you a smile...one of the things i always aprreciate with you...is what you have shared before in how hard it is...that social anxiety...so i am glad you share your words...and mix it up a bit...stepping out there...
ReplyDeleteI'd love to be on that sidealk cafe, drinking coffe and writing. Great sevenling, too. I like that form.
ReplyDeleteI admire the courage of everyone who comes through the doors at dVerse; for some it is much harder than for others, but I know I don't find it easy, even though my name is often near the top these days.
ReplyDeleteI'd like to be sitting with you and Laurie, listening to those voices, being inspired by them and by good company, and then writing it all down.
I am listening to you ~It is a challenge to post near the closing doors as there are only few who will return to your link ~ But having a group of reliable visitors, with or without the link, helps ~ Smiles ~
ReplyDeleteI like the sevenling form, the sarcasm is sweet but sharp though ~
just love this...the fear to share...the description of mr. linky...did i think you could include mr. linky in a poem..ha..wonderful and the scribbling in the cafe just for you and the moment and the people that pass...sometimes it's a big step to share what sprang so from within our heart
ReplyDeleteI love how you captured this. It can be frightening to put yourself out there--I so identify. I feel a little panicky still sometimes just before clicking 'publish'! I really enjoyed both of these RMP, good stuff.
ReplyDeletehey...just read glistening streams and couldn't comment on it..hope everything's ok with you...sounds like you're going through a rough time at the moment..wishing you much strength..
ReplyDeleteI can definitely relate to this. Well done!
ReplyDeletecouldn't comment on the other post...don't let go..please.. and the ocean feels often like it doesn't need our tears but it does..the small things count, we count...
ReplyDelete