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New Poem
Lightning
To me, it's something very frightening
To be working outside when it's lightning
Atop a building that's twenty foot tall
And me standing six foot over it all.
Little Stars
In coffeehouses and neighborhood bars
Novice performers become little stars.
Nervously, they climb up on stage.
Cautiously sing from a handwritten page.
Playing their songs in complete concentration,
Their minds fantasize a standing ovation,
While the audience applauds in conditioned reaction.
The music they hear as a minor distraction.
Then, a new tune is played, the rythem repeated.
A quite comes over everyone seated.
A voice sings out with words strong and clear.
The obnoxious loudmouths shut up to hear.
The music and words are so finely relayed
That feet react to the music that's played.
A singular feeling flows over the crowd.
The performer has something of which to be proud.
Little stars that someday may shine bright
Have a stage to launch from on open mic night.
Little stars in a weekday cluster
Combined give off a brilliant luster.
Email: grinningdog@webtv.net
