10 Best Famous Stage Fright Poems
Here is a collection of the top 10 all-time best famous Stage Fright poems. This is a select list of the best famous Stage Fright poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Stage Fright poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of stage fright poems.
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Written by
Howard Nemerov |
On the long shore, lit by the moon
To show them properly alone,
Two lovers suddenly embraced
So that their shadows were as one.
The ordinary night was graced
For them by the swift tide of blood
That silently they took at flood,
And for a little time they prized
Themselves emparadised.
Then, as if shaken by stage-fright
Beneath the hard moon's bony light,
They stood together on the sand
Embarrassed in each other's sight
But still conspiring hand in hand,
Until they saw, there underfoot,
As though the world had found them out,
The goose fish turning up, though dead,
His hugely grinning head.
There in the china light he lay,
Most ancient and corrupt and grey.
They hesitated at his smile,
Wondering what it seemed to say
To lovers who a little while
Before had thought to understand,
By violence upon the sand,
The only way that could be known
To make a world their own.
It was a wide and moony grin
Together peaceful and obscene;
They knew not what he would express,
So finished a comedian
He might mean failure or success,
But took it for an emblem of
Their sudden, new and guilty love
To be observed by, when they kissed,
That rigid optimist.
So he became their patriarch,
Dreadfully mild in the half-dark.
His throat that the sand seemed to choke,
His picket teeth, these left their mark
But never did explain the joke
That so amused him, lying there
While the moon went down to disappear
Along the still and tilted track
That bears the zodiac.
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Written by
Jennifer Reeser |
This night slip, in his honor
flipped inside out – of lace-
edged netting – is the color
of Shaka Zulu’s face;
of panther flower at midnight
where crow and boa doze;
of vertigo and stage fright
in frail Ophelia’s clothes.
I wear it as a symbol.
Its ripped, Chantilly trim
I fixed without a thimble,
was pricked and bled for him.
A torn band may be mended,
but what if he and I
disband, no longer blended?
My spine turned to the sky,
reflecting on my dresser
from mirror-fine sateens:
the Great Bear with the Lesser…
I dream of Shoji screens,
and when desire becomes
an overlaying itch,
the throbbing in my thumbs
untenable to stitch,
sleek, fitted, with the passion
of Shaka Zulu’s face,
reversed and fringe-of-fashion,
I put it on, in place
of achromatic egrets,
the vacant crystal ball.
Victoria has secrets.
I am her baby doll.
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