The Delivered

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
ive been writting poetry for about 7 years. This is an essay about me performing my poetry.

Submitted: June 12, 2009

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Submitted: June 12, 2009

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“The lights flicker…I wonder…then it goes off…and there I am…face to face…with darkness!” I look upon the stage and see another girl from the city taking her bows. I gaze at her as she as the curtains close and hear a familiar voice.
“Let’s give Tiffany Cambell another hand.” I witnessed it, but I can’t believe it. A seventh grader had just delivered the best poem I’ve ever heard, Darkness. You could feel her emotion and sense her pain. Her words awakened me and hit me pretty hard. You could tell by the way she read her poem that it was true. She went through hard times and had unbearable pains that neither you, nor I would understand. Things that no thirteen-year-old child should have to face, but she did.
At BelmontRunyonElementary school excellent poets all over New Jersey, from the fifth grade to the eighth grade delivered their best work. Only two students from each school were allowed to enter and I was hand picked by my English teacher Ms. Brantley. I had wrote four different poems for this special occasion and it was time for me to choose one. I had each poem memorized perfectly, but only one really seemed to stick out in my mind. So I decided to perform Do you know me? I recited the poem over in my head one more time.
“I got it.” I had no idea I was speaking aloud. I looked around scared and was glad to find that no one had heard me. Ms. Brantley approached ma and said “Breiona your next.” Her voice was full of enthusiasm and confidence. Her words comforted me, but also made me feel even more nervous. I looked in to her over mascara eyes and I began to cry. All of a sudden it was extremely hot, and my hands began to sweat. My knees felt weak, my chest got tight, and my stomach felt as if it was doing back flips. I took my place at the bottom of the stairs on the side of the stage. I stood there as Jay Robinson, a sixth grader from my school performed Idea. I listened closely to his words and they made me feel sick. I became lightheaded and nauseous when his poem drew towards the end.
 
Once again, the mistress of ceremonies spoke about his poem and asked the audience if they could guess where the origin of his poem was. As she spoke, I prepared myself for the dramatic performance I has so well rehearsed. I tied my scarf on my head loosely with a little bow in front. I placed my red and black fitted on my dome slightly leaning to the left and the brim facing the north east. I applied lip gloss and huge hoop ear rings for that girly appearance. I stopped for a minute and made sure I had on my favorite necklace; it always meant so much to me. At that point I was completely gone; stuck in my own little world of panic until I heard my name being called and massive people shouting bre-bre. I approached the stage.
I moved very slowly to the center of the stage, as the crowd watched me with anticipation. The mistress went to pass me the microphone, but I dismissed her with the wave of a rattling nervous hand. I peered at the house and saw all 169 faces steering at me, had me paralyzed in my own fear. Suddenly, without me knowing my words began to flow, my heart began to pound, and my eyes began to glow. I ended the poem with three dramatic lines. “You can’t see past it…You can’t see through it…So do you really know me!?” Before I could gather my props the mistress announced the best poem of the night, with performance and she called my name, the crowd came to their feet and I was told, “I Delivered”


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