Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

A Poem Recited; A Voice Spoken

Short story By: Spe
Young adult



There was a time where I had been extremely ignored. I hadn't many friends and so I decided one day that I would exit my middle school with a blast.
The only way possible for me was with words. So along comes a poetry slam in which I enroll in. This was the chance that I could show people some of thoughts inside my head that could move them to respect and acknowledge me.


Submitted:Feb 3, 2007    Reads: 129    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


A Poem Recited; A Voice Spoken

Today was the day that I was going to recite the poem I had worked so hard on. I had practiced until midnight the night before. I only hoped that my work would pay off. The poem I had written was a poem about hatred, deceit and vulnerability called "Why Do You Torture Me?" It was in a different style and texture than my other poems but for some reason I felt compelled to narrate this particular piece. I picked it especially because it had a sense of potency and strength in the words that could astound the heart in numerous ways. I looked around and saw my aunt and uncle with my cousin placed between them. My parents weren't there but it didn't bother me or surprise me so much. A gentle hand touched my shoulder, clearing my thoughts. I turned to the right of me and saw Evan, one of my best friends who I considered practically my brother. He smiled at me and told me that I would do fine. "Yeah… Thanks." I replied awkwardly. Mrs. Nesbit began to introduce the program but I didn't pay attention to her that much. I was more interested in the crowd. The whole school including some parents and guests were all crammed in our tiny gym waiting for a show.

I prayed that I wasn't up first. In fact I was rooting for second or third because I needed to get it over with. My legs shook and my teeth chattered. Mrs. Nesbit took off her 'jazz hat' and picked the first name. To my luck, it wasn't mine. "Thank God." I sighed under my breath. My brunette friend laughed and amusement sparkled in his turquoise eyes. Evan was always amused in some way. I whispered to him about how I wanted to go second and he replied, "You do know that going second is bad luck." I gulped down hard and my tongue went dry. "Then I hope I'm not picked second then." I said. Fine! Third! I thought to myself with confidence. After the first poet read her poem, Mrs. Nesbit drew another name out of her hat. My heart was beating even faster than when the first contestant was picked. Bum Bum. Bum Bum. "The next wonderful poet this afternoon is- Evan!" I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from laughing so hard. Even so, I patted his back and openly cheered, "Go Evan!"

His poem was beautiful but I hate to admit that I didn't pay so much attention to the words. He had already read me his poem before the show. Evan finished and the students of our school roared while the parents just clapped politely. He walked back to his seat and practically collapsed in his chair. I laughed and he just smiled weakly. Mrs. Nesbit pulled another name out off the hat and I was surprised to see that the name…. Was mine.

I calmly walked onto the stage and started.

After the second line or so, my voice began to increase in volume and in strength. The words rolling off my tongue. The emotions playing my expressions so brilliantly. The strength riding in my voice!

"Why do you torture me?
Why do you tempt me?
Blinding my eyes
Muting my mouth
And then.."

My voice starts to fade and my lips began to tremble. The whole crowd stares at me with wondering eyes not blinking but widening in amusement and in speculation of what I would say next.

"Pretend you Love me
Caring for the person I am
Showing your sweet loving affection
All you're doing is spreading infection!"

The last words coming out in gasps and rage which was balled up inside me. I let my audience drink the words in but.. There was always a 'but.'

I forgot my line.

Oh no! I thought. What am I going to do? Since I had left on such a tense note I began cover my face giving the impression that I was in deep thought and excruciating pain. There was silence but then Aha! I remembered my lines! I looked up and began again with firm tone that carried into desperate bellowing.

"I want you to get out
I want you to leave
I don't want my heart to be
Again deceived!
I know I'll forget the times
I thought we had
Seven years from now
Those memories will make me sad
Then mad
Then gag
Gag at you
Gag at me
Gag at the love that wasn't meant to be!"

I stopped one more time and recited in a calm phlegmatic tone, the last lines of my piece.

"You know I'm a secret
You know there's a key
But what you can't see is
The Lock is me.
Please, someone unlock me…!"

My last words were overpowered by the deafening of the crowd . I look up at the audience; my audience! The applause continued and even grew into a standing ovation with my friends shouting and cheering my name! Confidence beamed in my smile as I thought,

This is one of the proudest moments of my life. No longer will I be known as the timid girl or the class clown. Now I was known as a poet. A poet who goes by the name of Melissa!





0

| Email this story Email this Short story | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.