The Lonely Stage: A Poem (8/21/2019)

Inspiration is a fickle bitch!  These words just came to me in a gush at around 3:37 AM.  It was all I could do to catch the flow to avoid losing it to the haze of my sleep-filled grey matter.  I'm not a performer, so I'm not sure where it came from - but it came to me non-the-less. 


THE LONELY STAGE - by Autumn Boyet Stinton 


The bustle of the venue fills my ears as the plans come into place… 
               It could be a bar or grill, rough or rowdy, a big or tiny space. 
 But people tend to gather here and leave an imprint of their energy…
               It doesn’t matter why they’ve come or whom they’ve come to see. 

So if it’s me or someone else who stands upon the stage…
               They’ll watch awhile, judge a little and then the talent gauge. 
               Here I am, see me, the poet, the artist, the performer…
                                                            …upon the lonely stage


Backstage takes on a life its own and smells of sacrifice and fear…
               But the other side of the curtain smells of whiskey and stale beer. 
The fans are waiting like vultures, circling, ready for the temporary high…
               In the shadows desperation hides and a woman sucks her martini dry.

So if it’s me or someone else who stands upon the stage…
               They’ll watch awhile, judge a little and then the talent gauge. 
               Here I am, see me, the poet, the artist, the performer…
                                                            …upon the lonely stage


The stage lights will come up and the house lights will go down…
For a moment behind the curtain my breath is the only sound.
And all the words I’ve come to say that spill out from my soul…
             Are momentarily lost to me as my stomach and nerves roll. 

So if it’s me or someone else who stands upon the stage…
               They’ll watch awhile, judge a little and then the talent gauge. 
               Here I am, see me, the poet, the artist, the performer…
                                                            …upon the lonely stage


But the reason that I’ve come here is that I need to feel the light…   
               Burning through the dark in me and blinding out my sight.
I’ll capture their attention, whether fleeting or maybe it will last…
               I’ll revel in it here and now and try to recall it when its passed. 

So if it’s me or someone else who stands upon the stage…
               They’ll watch awhile, judge a little and then the talent gauge. 
               Here I am, see me, the poet, the artist, the performer…
                                                            …upon the lonely stage


For a while I’ll bask in what I’ve riled up and the sizzle in the night…
Before melancholy sets in as the end is close in sight. 
And while I say I’m here for them to offer moments of reprieve…
             That’s just a lie I tell myself for I crave the moment and what I do receive.

So if it’s me or someone else who stands upon the stage…
               They’ll watch awhile, judge a little and then the talent gauge. 
               Here I am, see me, the poet, the artist, the performer…
                                                            …upon the lonely stage


And then the show is over, the energy and crowd just peter out…
               All around the worn out room creeps the smell of loneliness and doubt.
The air is stale and feels used up, lacking life and afterglow…
               Nothing more to gain here, a sign resigned to move on to the next show. 

So if it’s me or someone else who stands upon the stage…
               They’ll watch awhile, judge a little and then the talent gauge. 
               Here I am, see me, the poet, the artist, the performer…
                                                            …upon the lonely stage
                                                            …upon the lonely stage


                                                       

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