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Stage Fright

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Below is the poem entitled Stage Fright which was written by poet Zach Nathan. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Stage Fright


...Just wait...

Wait a couple, really.

Just WAIT...

In the distance, 
a tremble of the air itself.
A subtle quiver of it's molecular structure.
A charge, causing your hair to come alive.

*CRACK* A singularity so vivid, so dazzling,
it blinds you,
forming indistinct bubbles in your vision.

Then another, farther away, not as luminous.
Another, and another. Dozens of fractures in the sky,
shining with voltages so high, so powerful;
temperatures blistering hot,
Searing and broiling anything they touch. 
Fiercier than the sun's corona.

Retorts of thunderous applause,
following seconds behind, build up.
Unsure at first, escalating. Deafening.
Frightening all into submission.
Applause for such grandeur. 

Overlooking the dark and forested valley,
we observe nature's perfect opera.
Above us, 
angry violet mamma roil,
bubbling over the base of the storm.
Faded flashes,
illuminating the clouds, 
casting mauve highlights and indigo shadows.
Far off applause, 
the audience of another, higher up show.

The tempest isn't quite done yet,
the show must go on. 
Not 10 metres behind us, 
a tree explodes, its trunk boiled and charred.
Simultaneously, a roaring, reverberating crackle-snap ignites the air, 
blasting our eardrums past their record limits.
A roasting heat wave blows over our heads, 
shoving us forward, searing the tips of our hair.

Screaming and shouting, we stumble away, 
no longer amazed at this horrifying opera.
Tripping down the slope,
we roll into the thick forest below us,
colliding with trees and shrubbery.

More flashes, tailed by the sky guffawing at us,
as we've become the joke of the show.
Horror surfacing on our faces, 
we blunder towards the jeep.

Only thing is...
all that's left of the jeep is a smoldering carcass...

Real fear sets in, 
as we discover ourselves 
Entirely alone.
And up on the stage of nature's prime opera.

And we're the laughing stock.
The dispensibles.

No way out.

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  1. Date: 11/6/2012 6:51:00 AM
    A great write and very enjoyable read Zach. Love, Carol