The Creative Writing Class

I am sitting in the circle;
Listening to the others,
The stories they are telling
Of some childhood memory.
The rain outside is falling,
Tapping gently on the window.
Inside the cakes are waiting.
And the woman’s making tea.

The tinkling of the china
Mixes with the chatter
And the sound of happy laughter
From the voices that are free.
Now we’re looking to the teacher
For the next name he is calling,
When suddenly I realise-
The name belongs to me.

I am sitting in the circle,
The others they are listening.
I feel the ears and eyes
That wait for me to start.
The rain it still is falling
And the woman’s in the kitchen,
But all that I can hear is the BEATING,
BEATING,heavy BEATING of my heart.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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Stanworth Avatar
July 18, 2018 at 2:09 AM
I think you captured the anxiety of public speaking, particularly opening up about creative work, very well. I have always been nervous before reading out in poetry groups for the first time. I have felt that nobody will like the pieces or won't understand them.
Krutsinger Avatar
July 8, 2018 at 7:23 PM
The truth shines through in this poem with every ounce of her being. Nice!
Oimbo Avatar
July 4, 2018 at 3:47 AM
The poem captures the anxiety during such situations
Wolf Avatar
July 1, 2018 at 10:29 PM
You've captured the moment, that feeling of dread when it's our turn (OH NO!), so perfectly. This is terrific, Sylvia. It's a FAVE for me. Best always, Gershon
De Beaulieu Avatar
July 1, 2018 at 6:13 PM
Hello Sylvia, nice to meet you. You could not speak because you were scared. I can not do poem in a small crowd because I am scared I have tried several times and nothing comes out of me. This is normal. Have a nice evening my friend.
Onclaud Avatar
July 1, 2018 at 11:37 AM
written with much empathy... expressive work, sylvia... huggs
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