The Audience Effect

Composed 4/1/14
Description: After the ashamedly long hiatus I’ve taken, I’m taking the plunge. That’s right, I’m signing up for NaPoWriMo, in which I will attempt to write and post a poem for every day in April. I know this will be good for me; I have a lot of ideas, but I can’t seem to sit down and write them out. Thusly, this is a perfect way to force myself to get into the habit of writing with consistency. In addition, I just want to get better! It seems today good poems and poets have been thrust into my face, and, admittedly, I’ve been jealous. I want to improve myself. I want to be more observant and write more deeply. I want to feel like I am a poet. And while thinking these thoughts, NaPoWriMo fell into my lap. So I’m going to try.

I admit; the first verse of this piece I had written before today. In fact, it’s been sitting in my phone for months, probably. But, yes, I finally am finishing it (very last minute, I’ll admit). I felt that it was only appropriate to talk about one of the trials of poets for this day one….

The art’s forgotten
For the sake of the praise
The performance suffers
With the audience gaze

We write about buzz
That’s trending today
Worried no one will read
If our words dare sway

It’s hard to promote
My personal trials
While controversy
Heaps attention in piles

And we edit to keep
Our secrets inside
Or we conceal pieces
From subjects’ eyes

For if it was
Our soul exposed
A quick read though
And they’d all know

The character
Of my deepest being
And judge me for the
Things they’re seeing

But if it’s changed
Just enough
I can face judgment
With easy rebuff

Because that’s not me
It’s just a shadow
So the poem’s safe
It’s just hollow

Confidant

Composed 3/3/14
Description: I started this in mid-February, but I finished it today. Simply, this is the importance of writing.

The pen my true voice
The page my sole confidant

When I must hide my thoughts from the eyes of the world you remain
To contain my soul in the hearts of trees
And bury my worries in pixel sleeves

You drain the pain of my mind through my fingertips
Without the burden of worry and regret
But you preserve the raw so I won’t forget

The true identity of my soul
The lessons of a life lived