The Music Man Feels

0 Comments

Poem Commentary

This is a poem I wrote about the opening night of our school play.

The Music Man Feels

We are all bright with anticipation, as the finishing touches are put onto hair.

I pace, as I look to my friends. We breath, then close our eyes.

I think of patience, I think of confidence, and I become numb, not calm.

We are called together to do our last singing warm up.

We are shaky,hyper, and excited. We can't wait, but we're scared.

I grab hold of my best friend's hand, as we line up in a circle.

The director decides to have the first scene, my scene, rehearse.

We mess up, the clapping goes on, but we're nervous. I don't want to mess up.

Our other director looks at us, as we're attempting to breath. We smile

Then, we frantically pick up a script, and scan the pages.

“Calm down,” she tells us “You'll do fine.”

It's my first show, and my nerves are running wild.

We all join hands again, our director gives us words of wisdom.

She cries, we all join, and laugh at our inside jokes. She smiles at us.

Then, it's time to pass the energy. We send squeeze to each hand in the circle

Silence, calmness, just my thoughts, no ones around.

Some kids laugh, but I try to maintain myself as much as possible.

Then, it's time.

 

I hug everyone in sight, kids I barely know.

“Good luck,” “break a leg.” I can't think of anything else.

We slowly walk behind the curtains. I rush to my seat and greet my partner.

She smiles, I panic. She runs to get props, as I remind her we don't have any.

A friend, comes up behind me and hugs us. I look at my partner.

“I can't do this,” I say. “I'll puke, I can't do this.”

She tries to make me laugh, but all I want to do is run off stage.

I can't though. And I need to remember, no second tries.

Wait, don't remember that...it will only make you more nervous.

I breath in and out, catching my breath, we hold hands for a moment.

I smile, she smiles, then the music starts. I tell her once more, I am nervous.

She agrees, but we get into character. My heart starts to beat at the speed of light.

I tell her this, she says the same. And stares at me longer, for a moment.

Then, we focus. Game time, Mackenzie. It's your time.

I wait, then, I hear... the starting music. My heart beats faster, my breath gets shorter,

I feel myself wanting laugh, or yawn, but I can't, I'm numb.

The curtain opens. I start to shake, but calmness, folds over me.

Suddenly, everyone in the audience, in my mind, disappears.

And I focus. Totally. I become in the zone, as the music starts again,

And the starters say their lines. Then, comes my line.

I say, I repeat it 3 simple beats later, and we come into unison.

Everything that almost held me back, is gone. Faded. Gone. In the audience, it lies.

You could find it, but you would never know it was mine.

I put it there for a reason, so I would never have to see those insecurities, again.

I keep acting my way through it, and then, finally, it's over with, and the crowd

goes wild.

 

I walk off, heading to the multi-purpose room, as people smile at me.

“Good job.” The freedom words!

We sprint there, and I slip off my clothes.

I start to panic, furiously. I finally, tie up my dress.

I started to get nervous, because I couldn't untie my tie, but I did.

I sprint back, slow myself, then get ready.

We all seamlessly slip through all the scenes, until we hit intermission.

 

We all walk off, congratulating one another.

I want to see my family, but I simply can't. I must stay contained here.

We all take pictures, sing, think, and play until it;s time to go.

Last minute changes are made, makeup,hair is fixed, then it's go time.

Then, off we are once again into fantasy land River City.

I hug more people, we shortly discuss costumes, then the door opens.

Silence, folds over. One girl, who's messed up everything,

tells us to be quiet, we already know. So we don;t listen.

 

The stage. Pitch black. My heart beats fast again. I grab hold of someones jacket.

I follow them off to the left side of the stage. I'm starting to sweat.

But for that moment, I know, at the next second it's my turn,

I'm...ready.  

Poem Comments

(0)

Please login or register

You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
leave comments/feedback and rate this poem.

Login or Register

Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

sixsensation23’s Poems (2)

Title Comments
Title Comments
The Music Man Feels 0
The More 0

sixsensation23’s Friends (1)