'It's Your Turn, Poet'
Mind spinning, waiting,
Hands wet with the sticky clam of flat ale,
And sweat.
Will they listen?,
Am I worth their time?
Knees tremble,
Throat ,,,,
Dry.
In a room, smoky and buzzing with the sound of drumming fingers on tables,
Slow rhythm as one,
Urgent for more,
or not?
One dim light shines on the bare feet standing alone on stage....
“It’s your turn, poet”
For the: FOS Anyform Challenge
In 'Free verse' style,
'The sound of Drumming fingers'
In my poem: 'It's Your Turn, Poet'
By Tracey
© 2010 Tracey
(All rights reserved)
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